\ 



.nut Published. -The Popular Edition" of r.aker's Reading Club and 
Dandy SiSkrr. No.. 1. 2. 3. *" 5 and 6, 50 Selection. In each. Price 15 cent, each. 



PS 1059 
B22 08 
1879 
Copy 1 





MUjy.//.r 




OUR FOLKS. 



LJJt 



i«j. *M?Ai 




NEW PLAYS 



aniUted from Oerman by Otorge M, 



Mr«. Wiilt»ir<M>*« lln.li«-l«»r». 

.... ■■.■:...,{..., ' *,<*»**•**«. « 

V-""| , V:."„ v'.'Vl . •..'.';,. ■ -Hv Sir Ita.,.. 

« .. Day. ■ ^iTchirMter. Wcertfc 

I „,l.. It...- c«,t» 



Spencer's Universal Stage. 

A Collection of COMEDIES, DRAMAS, and FARCES, adapted to either Public or Private 
Performance. Containing a full description of all the 
necessary Stage Business. 

PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. 03" No Plays Exchanged. 



1. LOST IN LONDON. A Drama in 3 Acts. 

6 male, 4 female characters. 

2. NICHOLAS FLAM. A Comedy in 2 Acts. 

By J. B. Buckstoue. 5 male, 3 female char. 

3. THE WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in 1 Act. 

By Mrs. Plauche. 3 male, 2 female char. 

4. JOHN WOPPS. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char. 

5. THE TURKISH BATH. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By Montague Williams and F. C. Burnand. 
G male, 1 female char. 
C. THE TWO PUDDIFOOTS. A Farce in 1 
Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

7. OLD HONESTY. A Comic Drama in 2 

Acts. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

8. TWO GENTLEMEN IN A FIX. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male char. 

9. SMASHINGTON GOIT. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 3 female char. 

10. TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By Lenox Home. 4 male, 
1 female char. 

11. JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. 

Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

12. THE DAUGHTER of the REGIMENT. 

A Drama in 2 Acts. By Edward Fitzball, 
C male, 2 female char. 

13. AUNT CHARLOTTE'S MAID. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

14. BROTHER BILL AND ME. A Farce in 

1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 3 female char. 

.15. DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char. 

16. DUNDUCKETTY'S PICNIC. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. G male, 3 female char. 

17. I'VE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female 
char. 

19. MY PRECIOUS BETSY. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4 female char. 

20. MY TURN NEXT. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char. 

22. THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By Chas. Selby. 3 male, 2 female char. 

23. DANDELION'S DODGES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char. 

24. A SLICE OF LUCK. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2 female char. 

25. ALWAYS INTENDED. A Comedy in 1 

Act. By Horace Wigan. 3 male, 3 female char. 
26 A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. A Comedy 
in 2 Acts. By Charles Matthews. G male, 4 
female char. 

27. ANOTHER GLASS. A Drama in 1 Act. By 

Thomas Mortou. G male, 3 female char. 

28. BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act. By II. 

T. Craven. 4 male, 3 female char. 

29. COUSIN TOM. A Commedietta in 1 Act. By 

Geo. Roberts. 3 male, 2 female char. 

30. SARAH'S YOUNG MAN. A Farce in 1 

Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male, 3 female char. 
31- HIT HIM, HE HAS NO FRIENDS. A 
Farce in 1 Act. By E. Yates and N. 11. Har- 
riugton. 7 male, 3 female char. 

32. THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By J. B. Buckstoue. 5 male G female char. 

33. A RACE FOR A WIDOW. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 4 female char. 

34. YOUR LIFE'S IN DANGER. A Farce in 

1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

35. TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in 2 Acts. 

Bv J. Sheridan Knowles. G male, -' female char. 



36. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. An Interlude 

in 1 Act. By W. H. Murray. 10 male, 1 female 
char. 

37. LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By George A. Stuart, M. D. G male, 1 female 
char. 

38. MONSEIGNEUR. A Drama in 3 Acts. By 

Thomas Archer. 15 male, 3 female char. 

39. A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male char. 

40. BROTHER BEN. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. 

M. Mortou. 3 male, 3 female char. 

41. ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. 

By J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1 female char. 

42. GASPARDO THE GONDOLIER. A 

Drama in 3 Acts. By George Almar. It) male, 
2 female char. 

43. SUNSHINE THROUGH THE CLOUDS. 

A Drama in 1 Act. By Slingsby Lawrence. 3 
male, 3 female char. 

44. DON'T JUDGE BY APPEARANCES. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 
female char. 

45. NURSEY CHICKWEED. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 lemale char. 

46. MARY MOO; or, Which shall I Marry» 

A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male, 1 
female char. 

47. EAST LYNNE. A Drama in 5 Acts. 8 male, 

7 female char. 

48. THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in 5 Acts. 

By Robert Joues. 1G male, 7 female char. 

49. SILVERSTONE'S WAGER. A Commedi- 

etta in 1 Act. By R. R. Audrews. 4 male, 3 fe- 
male char. 

50. DORA. A Pastoral Drama in 3 Acts. By Chas. 

Reade. 5 male, 2 female char. 

55. THE WIFE'S SECRET. A Play in 5 Acts. 

By Geo. W. Lovell. 10 male, 2 female char. 

56. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A Com- 

edy in 3 Acts, By Tom Taylor. 10 male, 3 fe- 
male char. 

57. PUTKINS , Heir ts Castles in the Air. 

A Comic Drama in i Act. By W. R. Emersoc. 

2 male, 2 fe.nalc char. 

58. AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By Thvii.js J. Williams. 3 male, 2 female char. 

59. BLUE AND CHERRY. A Comedy in 1 Act. 

3 male, 2 female char. 

60. A DOUBTFUL VICTORY. A Comedy in 

1 Act. 3 male, 2 female char. 

61. THE SCARLET LETTER. A Drama in 3 

Acts. 8 male, 7 female char. 

62. WHICH WILL HAVE HIM ? A Vaude- 

ville. 1 male, 2 female char. 

63. MADAM IS ABED'. A Vaudeville in 1 Act. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

64. THE ANONYMOUS KISS. A Vaudeville. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

65. THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 

5 male, 3 female char. 

66. A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, A TINKER, 

AND A TAILOR. A Farce in 1 Act. 4 male, 
2 female char. 

67. GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

68. DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Farce. 6 

male, 4 female char. 

69. A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A Serio-comic 

Drama in 2 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char. 

70. PAYABLE ON DEMAND. A Domestic 

Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1 female char. 



Descriptive Catalogue mailed free on application to 

Geo. M. Baker & Co., 41-45 iYaiikliii St., Boston. 



OUR FOLKS. 



3 pau in CIjvcc Sets. 



BY 

/ 



GEORGE M. BAKER. 



Dramattjrt from 
RUNNING TO WASTE: THE STORY OF A TOMBOY. 

i:V THE SAMT- AITHOR. 






3 : ■ L/C 

Boston : 

GEORGE M. BAKER AND COMPANY. 

Ib79. 









Copyright, 1879, 
By GEORGE M. BAKER. 

All rights reserved. 



FRANKLIN PRESS: 

ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY RAND, AVERY, & CO., 

BOSTON. 



CHARACTERS. 



Caft. Thompson, ;i retired shipmaster. 

II v ii it \ Thompson, his son. 

Caft. Bli kprr, a returned Californian. 

Tki>dv Sleeper, liis son. 

Hiram Small, ;i mill-owner. 

Phil, Capt. Thompson's man-of-aU-work. 

Mi;--. Thompson, good as gold." 

Bias. Si. i bpbb, " hoping against hope." 

Becky Sleeper, "the tomboy." 

Hi i.nv Prims, " full of complaints." 

Sii.lv York, "slipshod but willing." 



COSTUMES. 



Capt. Thompson. Art I. Dark pants; blue-checked shirt, collar 
thrown back; black neckerchief, with sailor-knot; thin coat; 
broad-brimmed straw hat. Act. n. Dark pants and vest; 
white shirt and collar; dressing-gown. Act III. Change 
gown to dark coat. Bald, iron-gray wig and short side- 
whiskers with all. 

Capt. Sleeper. Kark pants and coat; blue shirt: black neck- 
erchief; black felt bat; iron-gray wig; full beard. 

Harry. Act I. Mixed suit, suitable for a Harvard student; 
pants and Bhirt only, when he appears with Becky after the 
rescue. Act in. Darker suit. Both rather " nobby." 

Teddy. Act i Age 15. Bather short pants out at the knees; 

short jacket out at the elbows; checked sbirt; blue stock- 
ings; low-cut sleics; cap: curly wig, of light or red hair; 
pockets of pants stuffed with apples. Act. II. Wide-brimmed 
straw bat, with blue' ribbon; dark pants; pea-jacket; checked 
sbirt. with wide collar turned over jacket; black neckerchief, 
with sailor-knot. Ait III. Change jacket for linen coat. 

Hiram. Let I. Linen suit; straw hat. Act EC. Change coat for 
a green jacket. Act III. Blue coat, with brass buttons: white 
pants and vest; high standing collar; naming red tie; tall 
hat. short-cut iron-gray wig and chin-whiskers for all. 

Phil. Act I. Overalls tucked into long boots; cheeked shirt; 
cap. Act II. Same, with green jacket. 

3 • 



4 STUMES. 

.16. Short brown dress, torn about the 
skirt; soiled white stocking- si - with I sti pa ligh- 
ted blue-checked apron stained with berry-juice: light, 
curling hair flowing wild. Act II. Pretty muslin di 
cherry bow at the neck : broad-brimmed straw Lax. with 
Try ribbons ; hair knotted with same. Act III. Of the 
same character. 
Mb-. Thompson. W:"g of short, white curly hair: plump figure; 
"I. Brown figured-muslin : light shawl, 
and summer bonnet. Acts II and III. Of the same char- 
I 

I. Calico dress: white apron. Act HI. 
White wrapper: hair unlxrand. 
HiLi>A. I. . :th bunched curls each side of her face. 

Act. I. Calico dress: head tied up with a towel. Act II. 
Neat dark dress : white collar and cuffs : dark shawl ; 
bonnet. Act III. Calico dress, sleeves rolled up; on last 
entrance, sleeves down: white collar and cuffs. 
Silly. Act L Calico dress: handkerchief tied over her head. 
Act II. Same dress, with white apron; sleeves rolled up; 
hair flying. 

NV,te. — This is a play without a villain, depending for success 
upon pictures of home-life and the characterization of homely 
every-day people. In dramatizing a story, a great amount of 
;iti\-e matter necessarily enters into the play, rendering 
" speeches " of uncommon length. Great care should be taken, 
where these occur, that the action of the play be not retarded 
by their too slow delivery. A careful attention to this at 
rehearsals is earnestly recommended. 

Although three scenes are required, one will serve the purpose, 
where economy is a necessity, by the following arrangement: 
Have the " flat " made in three sections. In one a door is set for 
the closet in Act I. : in another a door; in the third a window. 
Now have an extra section, with a window, and you have all 
that is really necessary. Cover The " rlat " with drab paper, 
except where the windows and doors appear: make the window- 
frame s of light wood, stained black, — the casings as well as f lie 
door, — by pasting grained panel-paper, easily procured. Set 
these up; place a curtain of green paper, half rolled-up, at the 
window, and you have the scene for Act I. For Act II. remove 
the closet-section to i:. of stage; place the dcor-section in its 
place c; cover it with the dral> paper, then set your extra window 
L. of this; put up white curtains, and that scene is ready for the 
table, flowers, cage, &<\ F.>r Act III. you have only to remove 
the paper from c. section, and change curtains. 

Two years are supposed to elapse between first and second 
acts; one year between second and third. 



OUR FOLKS. 

A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. 



Act I. — Sckm i Mrs. Sleeper's kitchen. Window 
in flat a., door in flat i... closet between, fireplace r. 
Hclda seated in rocking-chair, elbow on her knee, 
head resting on her hand, looking at the fire. Door 
l. ; toJbh l. < .. covered with white cloth. Dishes on 
table, Mrs. Sleepeb beside it. wiping dishes which 
.s//« places in the closet while speaking. Chair near 
window, stool mar rocking-chair. 

Httida. I've had every thing under the sun in the 
shape of aches, but this neuralany does beat all. 
Seem- .is If the roof of my head would come off every 
time those needle pains dart through it. Oh, dear! 
There's another. *>h. oh ! ( Rocks herself, and groans.) 

Mrs. S. Hadn't you better go into the sitting-room, 
and lie down? 

Hulda. And leave you alone, when I came here 

to help? But, dear me! how can I help with all the 

pains and aches in creation devouring me? 

Mr S. \li ! we all have OUT trials, — aching 
bodies and BOlTOWful hearts. 

5 



b OUR FOLKS. 

Hulda. Well, Delia, you've had your share, and 
no mistake, — your husband gone these five 3'ears, off 
mining in Californy, and not a word from him to know 
whether he's alive or dead. 

Mrs. S. Don't say dead, Hulda. I cannot believe 
it. 

Hulda. It looks precious like it when a man 
hasn't been heard of or from for five years. 

Mrs. S. Had he left me forever, some kind friend 
would have sent me his last words. No, I cannot be- 
lieve my dear, good husband is lost to me. Ever 
before my eyes is the welcome ship that comes bring- 
ing him to my aching, longing heart. That is the 
hope that cheers me. 

Hulda. But it doesn't cheer } t ou a bit, Delia : you 
haven't smiled these four j^ears. If 3'ou'd only chirk 
up a bit, and laugh once in a while, it would do 3011 
lots of good. Where would I be with all nvy troubles 
if I let myself grow low-spirited, and groaned? Oh, 
dear ! There's another. Oh, oh ! (Holds her head, 
and rocks.) 

Mrs. S. 'Tis hard to smile with an aching heart, 
but when he comes all will be changed. Will that day 
never, never come? [Exit l., with table-cloth. 

Hulda. She's a good woman, a real good woman ; 
but that man Cyrus Sleeper just spoiled her. There 
wa'n't nothing too good for her, and he was just a 
hero to her. Hm ! Catch me making a hero of the 
best man that ever lived ! Oh, oh ! my head, my 
head ! 

Becky (outside). Run, Teddy, run; don't let him 



OUR FOLKS. 7 

catch you. (Runs on, door in flat.) Oh, such fun! 
We've been up iu one of Capt. Thompson's apple- 
trees, Teddy and I ; and lie's after us full tilt on horse- 
back. He couldn't catch me, but I'm dreadful 'fraid 

he'll overhaul Teddy, for he's loaded down with apples. 

Capt. T. (outside). Stop, stop, you rascal ! 

Becky. There he is, hut he sha'n't catch me. (Buns 
into closet, anil puUs t!w door after her.) 

Hulda. Dear me ! what didos those young ones do 
cut up ! 

Teddy (running in door and doivn to l. corner). 
By jinks ! here's a scrape, and no mistake. Hope 
Becky's got off. 

(Enter Capt. T., door in flat, with a ivhijy, and in a 
toivering passion.) 

Capt. T. So, so, I've caught 30U in the act, at 
last, have I ? 

Becky (sticking her head oid of the closet). Yes, 
Cap'n, you certainly have this time, and no mistake. 
S'pose we've got to catch it now. What's the penalty? 
Going to put us in the pound, or lock us up in the 
barn ? 

Capt. T. Neither, tomboy: I'll horsewhip you both 
(flourishing his ie/iij>), commencing with you, Master 

Ned. 

Becky. Run, Teddy, run ! 

Capt. '/'. If you stir a Step, you imp of mischief, 
I'll break every bone in your body. 

Becky (coming from closet). Don't you touch* my 
brother! Don't you dare to touch my brother! It's 
.1 shame to make such a fuss about a few apples. 



8 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. It's a great shame that a girl of your age 
should be caught stealing apples. 

Becty. 'Tain't my fault. We shouldn't have been 
caught if you'd only staid at home. 

Capt. T. (aside). I'll be hanged if she isn't trying 
to shift the responsibility of the theft on to me. (Aloud 
to Teddy.) Now, sir, what have you to say for your- 
self? Haven't I told you to keep off my place? 
Haven't I promised you a thrashing if I caught you 
there again? 

Teddy. Yes, Cap'n, that's so. But I couldn't help 
it. I — I — I didn't want the apples, b — b — but 
I wanted to climb the tree for fun : it's such a hard 
climb, and — and — 

Capt. T. Don't lie, you scamp, with your pockets 
stuffed full of my apples. 

Teddy (looking down at his pockets) . By jinks ! 
Them must have dropped into my pockets when I was 
a-climbing. 

Capt. T. Oh, 3~ou shall sweat for this, I promise 
3'ou. Off with your jacket, quick ! d'ye hear? 

Becky (comes between Captain and Teddy). Don't 
strike him, Cap'n, please don't. He's not to blame. 
He didn't want the apples, indeed he didn't. He 
don't like 'em; do you, Teddy? 

Teddy (shaking his head). No, colic berries, bah ! 

Becky. I helped him up the tree, and I'm to blame 
for it all. You oughtn't to strike a boy for doing all 
he can to please his sister. If } - ou must whip some- 
body ,• take me. 

Capt. T. (pushing her to r.). Stand out of the wa}-, 



OUR FOLKS. 9 

tomboy: your time will come soon enough, never fear. 
— Off with that jacket, d'ye hear? 

Idy (coolly unbuttoning his jacket, and taking it 
off). Don't tease him, Becky. I ain't afraid of his 
whip. If it's any fan for him, let him lay on. I guess 
I can stand it as long as he can. 

Becky (running across stage, and throwing her arms 
about Teddy's neck). lie sha'n't strike you, Toddy. 
It'< all my fault. He sha'n't touch you. 

Teddy. Don't, Becky ; quit! D'ye want to smother 
a feller? Don't be a ninny. It's got to come. Quit! 

/.' /. 7. I won't. He shall kill me before he strikes 
you. 

Capt. T. (takes Becky by the arm. and flings her 
over to r.). I'll teach you to meddle: don't come 
near me till I've done with him. 

Beck;/ (shaking both fists at him). Oh, don't I wish 
1 was a man ! 

Capt. T. (seizing Teddy by the collar, and raising 
whip over his shoulder). 2sow, you scamp, I'll teach 
you to rob orchards. 

Becky (runs up behind Captain, snatches whip, and 
runs to door in flat). Not before ladies. Cap'n : that's 
not polite. Some other time. 11a. ha, ha! Good- 
ly. Cap'n. Good-by, Teddy: I'm off for a ride. 

[Exit, snapping the whip. 

Capt. T. (runs >/]> to door). Come back, you imp, 
come back ! ( //' doorway, looking off l.) Might as 
well talk to the wind (Shouts.) Get off that horse. 
Confound the jade 1 (Runs off.) stop! d'ye hear? 

Becky (outside). Some other time. Ilmlnp, Uncle 

Ned! 



10 OUR FOLKS. 

(Teddy runs up to door, and looks off.) 
Teddy. By jinks ! She's riding away on the 

Cap'n's horse : hi ! what fun ! An' the Cap'n he's 

ruiinin' — no; he's turned round, and's comin' back. 

(Runs down, and picks up his jacket.) Now what 

shall I do? 

Hulda. Do ! Scoot. 

Teddy. By jinks! I'm off. (Runs to window, and 

tumbles out, then pokes his head in.) Say, Aunt 

Hulda, you keep mum, and I'll divy on the apples. 

(Disappears.) 

(Enter Mrs. S. from l., and Captain, door in flat.) 

Capt. T. So, so ! Purty capers those 3'oung ones 
of yours are cutting up, Delia Sleeper ! 

Mrs. S. Do 3'ou mean Rebecca and Edward, Cap- 
tain? Have the} - been making any trouble? 

Capt. T. Trouble ! trouble ! Did they ever make 
any thing else? Ain't they the pests of the town? 
Who or what is safe when they. are about? I tell you 
what it is, Delia: I'm a patient man, a very patient 
man ; but I've endured this sort of thing just as long 
as I mean to. Something's got to be done. 

Mrs. S. I'm sure I try to keep the children out 
of mischief. 

Capt. T. No, you don't. That's just what's the 
matter. You've no control over them. You just let 
them loose, and like a couple of wildcats they go 
about seeking who they may devour. What's the 
consequence? Look at Brown's melon-patch. He 
couldn't find a sound melon. Then look at my 



OUR FOLKS. 11 

orchard. Despoiled by these barbarians! To-da}' 
I eaughl them in one of my frees, loaded with 
plunder. — caught them in the act! 

Mrs. S. <> captain ! You did not punish them! 

Oapt. T. Punish eels! No: they were too sharp 
for me. Bui I will, he sure of that. Now, Delia, this 
thing must be stopped : it shall be stopped. 

Mrs. 8. I'm sure I'm willing to do an}* thing I 
can to keep them orderly. 

Capt. V. Now. what's the use of your talking so? 
You're all hound up in your sorrows. You won't think 
of tlie mattei- again when I am gone. If you eared 
for their bringing up, you'd have that boy at school 
instead of letting him fatten on other folks' property; 
and bring that girl up to work, instead of letting her 
go galloping all over creation on other folks' horses. 
I tell you, Delia, you don't know how to bring up 
young ones. 

//"/</'•. P'raps she'd better turn 'em over to you, 
Cap'n Thompson : you're such a grand hand at bring- 
in' up. 

Capt. T. Hulda Prime, you just attend to your own 
affairs : this is none of your business, so shet up. 

Hulda. Shut up! Wal, I never! Ain't you get- 
ing a leetle obstroperlous, Cap'n? This here's a five 
country : and nobody's to hinder anybody's freein' their 
mind to anybody, even if they are a little up in the 
world, shut up. indeed! {Rises, walks round her 
chair, and flounces down again.) 

('■'[,t. T. I don't want any of your interference, 
Hulda Prime. 



12 OUR FOLKS. 

Hulda. I know you don't. But it's enough to 
make a horse laugh to see you coming here tellin' about 
bringin' up young uns ! Brought up your Harry well, 
didn't yer? 

Mrs. S. Hush, Aunt Hulda ; don't speak of that 
matter now. 

Hulda. Why not? "When folks come to other 
folks' houses to tell 'em how to train up their children, 
it's high time they looked to home. 

Capt. T. I brought up my son to obey his father ; 
and there wasn't a better boy in the town. 

Htdda. Want to know ! He was dreadful nice 
when 3011 had him under yqur thumb, but he made 
up for it when he got loose. Such capers ! He made 
a tombo} T of our Beck}', and was just as full of mischief 
as he could stick. 

Capt. T. No matter about my son : he's out of the 
way now. 

Hidda. Yes : cos you wanted to put him to a trade, 
and he wasn't willin', and so started off to get a col- 
lege education. Then you shut the door agin him, 
locked up your money, and vowed he should starve 
afore you'd help him. But they do say he's been 
through Harvard College in spite of yer. 

Capt. T. Hulda Prime, you're a meddling old 
woman ! It's a pity somebody didn't start 3011 off 
years ago, — hanging round where 3*011 ain't wanted. 

Hulda. I never hung round your house much ; did 
I, Cap.'n? 

Capt. T. Now, Delia, listen to reason. You're too 
eas3 r with them children : they want a strong hand to 



OUR FOLKS. 13 

keep 'em in lino. You know I'm a good friend to }'OU 
and yours, and though Cyrus Sleeper did treat me rather 
shabby — 

IlnUhi. Good land! hear the man talk! It's no 
su<h thing. Shabby, indeed ! When he was coming 
home in the "Boundin' Billow" that you and he owned 
together, from the West Injies, with a cargo of molas- 
ses, he got news of the gold diggings. Took ship and 
cargo right Btraight to Californy; sold the whole con- 
cern for ten times what it would have brought here, 
and sent you every cent of the money. Shabby, in- 
deed ! 'Twos the biggest speck you ever made. 

< '"pt. T. Will you he quiet, woman? I ain't talk- 
ing to you, and don't want any of your meddlin'. 

Mrs. S. Aunt Ilulda, don't interrupt, please. 

llul, I, i. Then let him talk- sense. The idea of 
Cyrus's ever treating anybody shabby is ridikerlous. 

C'l/'t. T. Those young ones must he sent to school. 

Mrs. .v. i can't afford it, Cap'n: 3-011 know the 
money's mosl gone. 

Capt. '/'. [t's all gone. You know I fairly divided 
the money Cyrus sent me; though, to hear some med- 
dlin' folks talk (looks nt Hilda), any body would think 
I kept it all. 

Mrs. 8. All gone. Cap'n? 

Capt. '/'. Every cent. What you have been drawing 

during the last year is from my own pocket; hut no 
matter tor that. The school opens Monday. I'll send 
the children, and pay the hills. I'll he a lather to 
them : they're not likely to have another very soon. 

Mrs. 8. Don't say that, don't say that! Cyrus 
will come hack ; I know lie will. 



14 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. If he's alive ; but don't be too hopeful. 
There's been a heap of mortalit}- among the miners. 
Chances are agin him. So you'd better be resigned, — 
better give him up. Put on mourning for a year, and 
look round. 

Mrs. S. Give up my husband ! He will come back, 
I know. I feel he will. Don't say give him up. I 
cannot, I cannot. ( Weeps). 

Hulda. Look round, indeed ! Wal, I never ! Wlvy, 
it's bigamy, rank bigamy ! 

Capt. S. Well, do just as you please about that, 
only let me have my way in this. You see, they have 
got to earn their own living ; and, the sooner they get a 
little learning, the better. 

Mrs. S. Very well, Captain, I consent ; only be 
eas} r with them at first. 

Capt. T. Oh ! I'll be easy enough if they mind me : 
if not, they'll catch it. And mind, no interference with 
my plans from you or Hulda. 

Hulda. You needn't fret about me: mercy knows 
I've troubles enough of my own. (Puts her hand to her 
back.) I declare, there's that lumbago coming back ! 

Capt. T. (aside). Glad of it! (Aloud.) Want to 
know if you've got that too. They do say that you're a 
calendar of complaints, — Monday, rheumatism ; Tues- 
da}'', cancer ; Wednesday, dyspepsia ; Thursday, heart- 
disease ; Friday, lumbago ; Saturday, spine ; Sunda}', 
neuralgia, — only you do upset all calculations at times 
by having them all together, just when your help is 
needed. (Aside.) There's a shot for her. 

Hulda. You understand my case purt}* well ; don't 
you, Cap'n? 



OUR FOLK*. 15 

Capt. T. Yes, indeed ! I'll be off, for fear it might 
be catching. 

I /"/(In. 'Twould be the first thing you caught to- 
day. 

Capt. T. Hm! (Aside.) The old fool ! (Aloud.) 
( lood-morning. \_!<Jxit, door in flat. 

Jluldn. .Mighty kind, all to once. 'Spose he's afraid 
he'll Lose his whole crop if he don't lock up those 
young ones. 

Mrs. S. The Captain has a kind heart, with all his 
roughness. 

(Enter Silly, door injlat, with a basket.) 

Silly. How d'ye do, Miss sleeper? How. d'ye do, 

Aunt Hulda? I'm purty well, I thank ycr. (Sets basket 
en table.) 

Mrs.S. Ah. Silly! 

Silly. Now, don't you Bay one word till I get 
through. I've got so much on my mind that if you 
jest jog my elbow I shall spill it all. Mrs. Thomp- 
son, says she to me this morning, "Silly!" — 
V What? " says I. — " (Jet the covered basket," says 
she. — •• Ye-,, mann," Bays I ; and started for the 
door. — " Stop, stop!" says she. "I want you to 
get the covered basket, and take some things to Miss 
Sleeper," says she. — " Yis, marm," says I; and 
started tin- the door. — " Stop !" says she. ''What 
in the world are yon thinking of?" — "The covered 
basket," Bays I. — "It's in the pantry. Silly." says 
she. •• When I have finished what I have to say. I 
will tell vou to ifo." — "Then you don't want the eov- 



16 OUR FOLKS. 

ered basket ? " saj-s I. — "Get the covered basket," 
saA's she. " Put in it the ham that was left at dinner, 
the pair of chickens I cooked this morning, a couple of 
mince-pies, and a loaf of bread. Do you understand? " 
— "Yis, inarm," says I. "Basket, ham, chickens, 
mince-pie, bread." — " Very well," saj-s she. " These 
are for Miss Sleeper, with my compliments." — " Yis, 
marm," sa3 r s I. "Basket and all?" — "Bring back 
the basket, of course," says she. "Now go." And 
then I started for the door. "Stop, stop, Silly!" 
saj-s she. — " You told me to go when 3'ou said go; 
and I was going to go," says I. — "I want } T ou to go 
to the pantry ; get a bottle of currant-wine, a jar of 
damson-preserves, and a box of sardines. These are 
for Aunt Hulda, with my compliments." 

Hulda {jumping up). For me? Now ain't she 
good — 

Silly. Couldn't } - ou wait till I got through? — Says 
she to me. " No," says I, — Well, I -guess that's all. 

Hulda. Well, I'll take my things (holds up her 
apron by the corners) . 

Silly. All right (puts articles in apron from basket). 
Guess 3'ou don't get much sent you. You look as 
tickled as a cat with two tails. 

Hulda. Silly, don't be a fool (carries articles to 
closet). 

Silly. That's what mother said when I went to live 
with Miss Thompson. "Silly," says she, " do what 
3'ou are told, when 3 r ou are told, and the quicker the 
better : and never complain at 3 r our troubles ; it's only 
the foolish who complain." 



OUE FOLKS. 17 

11 ill, hi (goes back to chair). If she'd told you to 
hold your tongue, she'd have given you better advice. 

'Mrs. S. I'll take the basket, Silly (takes basket to 
closet, and places things in it). Tell .Mrs. Thompson I 
shall never forget her kindness. 

Silly. Yes. iiKuin 1 (To Hvlda.) Ain't you feel- 
ing well? 

Hvlda (crossly). I never feel well. 

Silly. Don't you feel well enough to send a message 
to Miss Thompson ? 

Hvlda. Wha1 message should I send her? 

Silly. A ••Thank you " wouldn't make you feel any 
worse (takes basket from Mrs. S.). I'm real sorry for 
you. Miss Sleeper : you've had lots of trouble. And 
mother Bays, says she, "Of all troubles, a livin' trou- 
ble is the worst." And I guess you've got a heap in 
her. [Exit door in flat. 

Mr 8. S. (looking at IIulda). Poor old soul! Every- 
body has a hard word for her. They are right: she is 
a burden. lint I can never forget her kindness to 
CyrUfl when he was :i poor boy. [Exit L. 

(Tiauo sticks in'.s Inad in at the tvindoic.) 

Tejidy. Say, Aunt IIulda, is the coast clear? 

Hvlda. V. - ; come in. 

Teddy (getting in at window, and .sitting on the back 
of chair near window). By jinks! wa'n't I seared, 
though ! Where's Becky? 

< l-'.nti r \\\ i ei . door iii flat.) 

/; ky. Here I Mill (sits mi talih ) . 

Teddy (transferring apples from his jackets to Jiis 
hat ). Where you been? 



18 OUR FOLKS. 

Becky. Been to take the Cap'n's horse home : that 
was only politeness, after he had clone us the honor to 
call here. Ha, ha, ha ! But I exercised him well 
first. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Teddy. By jinks, I bet you did ! 

Becky. I'm awful hungry. Toss me an apple. 

Teddy {tossing apple) . Ketch it. What }ou going 
to do now, Becky? Might go fishin'. 

Becky {nibbling her apple) . Ha, ha, ha ! Only you 
lost your line last Sunday. 

Teddy. Can't have no fun, nor nothin'. Jest as 
you git a nibble, 'long comes some of the meetin'-house 
folks, and begin to talk about breaking the sabbath, 
and that jest scares off' all the fish. 

Becky. And the fisherman, too, Teddy. My sakes ! 
how you did run last Sunday when Deacon Hill caught 
you fishing down at the fore-side ! Ha, ha, ha ! 

Teddy {munching an apple) . Plague take him ! he 
jest marched off with my line and bait too. 

Hulda. Served you right. The place for folks on 
Sunday is in church. 

Teddy. Seems to me, Aunt Hulda, you don't go. 

Hulda. Lor, child, I'm a poor afflicted creeter. 
I'm only expected to bear my troubles patiently, and 
I'm sure I do that. 

Teddy. Don't think much of going to meeting, any- 
way. They always poke us up in the gallery, and 
won't let us go to sleep ; and, if the sexton ketches a 
feller firin' spitballs, he just whacks him on the head. 

Becky. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Hulda. Ah! you children might do lots of good 



OUR FOLKS. 19 

every day in the week, instead of spending your time 
in mischief. 

Teddy. By jinks ! I'd like to know how? 

Hulda. Well, by helpin*. 

Teddy, res, I guess not. I ain't got no rheumat- 
ics, nor lumbago, and I can't groan wuth a cent. 
(Bei kv laughs internally.) 

Ifiil'lit. Then a-going to see sick folks, and carrying 
them little dainties, is a nice way to do good. When 
I was helping Miss Lincoln, years and years ago, she 
used t<> >a\ to me sometimes, " Hulda,' don't you want 
to clap on your bunriet, and run over to the Widder 
Steams with the basket?" or, " Hulda, don't you 
want tn cany this jelly to Mr. Peters? He's awful 
sick." And I used to go and go, and never feel a bit 
tired, because it was charitable work. Now, there's 
Mr. York, Silly's father, poor man, he's most gone 
with consumption : now. if you only had a nice little 
bit of Bomethin' to take over to him, you don't know 
how good yon would feel. Oil. dear! if I was only 
Btrong ami well! (Rises.) But what's the use of 
talking? Here I've got the rheumatics so I can't 
walk, and the neuralagy so I can't sit still; and I'm 
afraid there's a cancel- coming on the end of my tongue, 
and then I can't talk. [Exit L. 

(Short pause; ln.i k\ uml Teddy munching apples.) 

Teddy. Becky, what's the matter? you've sat still 
as much as five minutes, sick, hey? 

Becky. No. Teddy: I'm thinking, that's all. 

Teddy. Don't do it. 'Twill make you sick ; see if 
it don't. 



20 OUR FOLKS. 

Becky. I guess not. Teddy, I expect we're awful 
wicked. 

Teddy. Do yer, though ? What for? 

Becky. Because we don't go to church Sundays. 

Teddy. How are we going to church without clo'es? 
My elbows are all out, so's my knees. They'd send 
us home quick, I tell }'ou. 

Becky. 'Spose they would. Well, there's one thing 
we might do, — cany something nice to sick folks. 

Teddy. Ain't got nothin' nice, and don't know any 
sick folks. 

Becky. We know Mr. York,- who's got the con- 
sumption. 

Teddy. Well, we might go and catch some fish for 
him, onty I've lost my line. 

Becky. No ; something better than that. Teddy, 
you run and get a basket : I know what to take. 

Teddy {going r.). Don't know what ails Becky, 
but, by jinks, I'll bet there's some fun comin'. 

[Exit r., with hat full of apples. 

Becky. My sakes ! Did she ever do good ? Every- 
body calls her a nuisance, and everybody laughs at her 
grumbling. She take things to sick folks, and feel 
good in doing it ! Why, she talks like a minister. 

{Enter Teddy r., with a large basket. Leaves apples 
outside.) 

Teddy. How's this, Becky? 

Becky. That will do nicely. Now let's see what we 
can find to put into it. (Opiens closet.) Here's a 
bottle of currant-wine. I guess that's good for con- 



OUR FOLKS. 21 

sumption : we'll take that. ( Puts it in basket.) And 
here's a jar of preserves. They always give those to 
sick Polks: we'll take that. (Puts it in basket.) And 
here's a bos of sardines. I don't know about thai : 
we'll take it, anyway. (Pitts it in basket.) 

Teddy. By jinks, Becky! them's the tilings Miss 
Thompson sent to Aunt Ilulda. I was outside the 
winder, and saw Silly York when she gave them to 
her. 

Becky. No matter: she'll send her more, I guess. 
Besides, Aunt Elulda won't care, for we're going to do 
good with them. There's a pair of chickens too, but 
I guess that they're too hearty for sick folks. Now 
let's lie oil'. {They take the basket between them, and 
go a.) 

'/'"I'll/. The basket is too big for the things. 

Becky. No: the things are too small for the basket. 

Teddy (laughs). Ha, ha, ha! (Becky joins in the 
laughs and then looks serious.) 

Becky. Teddy, this is charitable work. You must 
be very serious. (Both draw themselves up, put on 
long faces, then look down at the basket, up at each 
other, and exit a., laughing loud. Enter a., Mrs. 
Sleeper; door in flat, Mrs. Thompson.) 

Mrs. 8. Dear .Mrs. Thompson, this is kind of yon. 

Mrs. T. (taking her hand). Mrs. Thompson, in- 
deed! since when have you learned to be so formal 
and so polite? When we were girls together we greeted 
each other as Rebecca and Delia, a custom we have 
continued until the present moment. Why change it 
now ? 



22 OUR FOLKS. 

Mrs. S. (sighs). Because I have learned within a 
few moments that our stations are greatly changed. 
You are the wife of the richest man in the count}' : I 
am a dependent on his bounty. 

Mrs. T. But our hearts have not changed, Delia. 
In your eyes I see the same loving light that greeted 
me years ago. And you will see the same in mine if 
you only look into them. "In the eye there lies the 
heart," the old song says ; and mine were never known 
to tell a fib. Well, how are you? My husband has 
been here to-day. 

Mrs. S. Yes ; and from him I learned that my 
money is all gone. 

Mrs. T. He told you that, did he ? He must have 
been in a towering passion to have so far forgot 
himself. 

Mrs. S. My money all gone ! What shall I do ? 

Mrs. T. (sitting in rocking-chair). Use his, of 
course. It's all in the family. You and yours were 
always " our folks," and you'll not suffer while he has 
a dollar. He's an awful growler, dear old fellow. Ha, 
ha, ha ! j-ou've no idea how I have to manage him. 
Give him his own wa}-, and he's as sweet-tempered as 
an angel. But of course I couldn't do that, being a 
woman. Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, no ! obstinacy is the ruling 
spirit I have to battle. Give him his own way, and 
he's ready for any good work. Oppose him in the 
slightest degree, and he is immovable ; and so, my 
dear, like a wise woman, I never array myself against 
his wishes or opinions, but continually contrive plans 
for him to combat. I always fight for what I don't 



OUR FOLKS. 23 

want, and so get what I do. I triumph in defeat, and 
he is happy in his supposed victory. Ila, ha, ha! poor 
old trlli. w ; how he is humbugged ! He's going to send 
Becky to Bchool, isn't he.? 

Mrs. 8, That is his plan. I believe. 

Mrs. T. No, it isn't : it's mine. I thought it was 
high time that some attention should be paid to Becky's 
education : so I took occasion the other day, after Becky 
had climbed the lightning-rod of the church, opposite 
our house, to call lhs attention to it with the remark, 
•• Such exercise must be excellent for a girl's constitu- 
tion, much better than going to school." He took fire 
at once, and vowed she should be sent to school. Ha, 
ha. ha ! it was my plan, you see. 

Mrs. S. But Harry — 

Mrs. T. Ah ! then 1 you touch me. They quar- 
relled, and he drove him away. It's hard to bear the 
absence of a dear one from our home ; but I have never 
lost sight of him. The mention of his name is forbid- 
den ; but snugly tucked away among my treasures are 
weekly reports of his progress at college. — tender, lov- 
ing epistles, such as make a mother's heart glad and 
happy. He's a son to be proud of. Delia: and, once 
his Gather's Obstinate old eyes ari' opened to the fact, 
we -hall lie a united family again. And so Aunt Ilulda 
twitted him of it. did she? 

Mrs. S. I was never so mortified in my life. I 
tried to stop her; but she would go on. 

dirt. '/'. Bless her dear old heart ! I heard of it : 
he couldn't keep it to himself. So I sent Silly right 
Over with a few little delicacies. Ha, ha, ha ! how 1 



24 OUR FOLKS. 

should have liked to have heard her ! Dear me, how 
I am running on ! I came here to meet a gentleman. 

Mrs. S. A gentleman? 

Mrs. T. Yes : it's time he was here. Ah ! I hear 
his step. (Rises. Enter Harry Thompson, door in 
flat.) Welcome, my dear, dear boy ! 

Harry (taking her in his arms, and kissing her). 
Dear, dear mother ! I can greet you without a blush. 
Thanks to you, I have won my laurels. 

Mrs. T. You carried off the honors at Harvard? 

Harry. Yes : graduated at the head of my class. 

Mrs. T. I knew you would. 

Harry (goes to Mrs. S., and takes her hand). My 
dear old friend ! I'm glad to meet you once more. 
(Kisses her.) You're my other mother, you know ; 
for I believe this house was as much my home in the 
old clays as the other. 

Mrs. S. Ah ! Harry ! 'tis not the old home. Cyrus 
gone — 

Harry. To return again, Heaven grant ! Keep up 
a good heart. He was never fond of writing, you 
know ; and men are returning often who have not been 
heard of for many, many years. 

Mrs. S. Oh, you don't know how good your words 
sound ! They all tell me to give him up, that he must 
be dead ; but something within me makes me hopeful. 
I could not feel so if he were dead. When my little 
baby died, I felt it near me for a long time ; but it was 
a shadowy presence, something that gave my heart no 
warmth, no consolation. But my husband is a living 
presence : his voice comes to me at times, not with a 



OTJB FOLKS. 25 

ghostly sound, but with the clear, cheery ring that 
greeted me so often, — "Wife, home, home again!" 
Oh, In' must, he will come ! 

Harry. Heaven giant he may ! 

Mrs. T. Amen ! 

Mrs. 8. I will leave. I know you have much to 
say to each other, and I shall be in the way. 

Harry. Not a bit of it. We want yon, I want 
you : for 1 most have somebody near, that I may sound 
the praises of my angel mother there. 

Mrs. T. Oh, nonsense, Harry ! 

Harry. Ah! but I will. What I am, 3*011 have 
made me. Out of your deep mother-love, spite of 
obstacles that might have dismayed the stoutest heart, 
you have fashioned an honorable road to fame and 
fortune for my feet. May the future show how much I 

prize that love ! 

Capt. T. {outside). Bring them along, Phil. 

Harry. My father! (Going l.) 

Mrs. T. Stay here, Harry. You must meet him 
some time ; why not now? 

( 1 1 iBXt goes behind her chair, and stands in corner ivith 
his arms folded.) 

Phi!, (outside). Aisy, honies, aisy. 

Becky (outside). Let go my ear. 

'■!;/ (outside). You quit, now: my ear's tender. 

Pliil. (appearing at door in flat, holding Becky and 

TEDDY by the ears). Ah, yis! 'tis a tinder tie that 
binds us. Thai's the way we took the pigs in the owld 

country. Scoot now! (Tiny run down ton. corner, 
uml rub their tan. Phil steps inside the door to l. 
Captain appears with basket.) 



26 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. More mischief! more thieving! Hang 
it ! nothing is safe in this town. 

Mrs. S. What's wrong now, captain? 

Capt. T. What's wrong? What's always wrong? 
The capers of j-our young ones. I've caught these 
young ones of yours — 

Becky. After a hard chase. Don't forget that, 
Cap'n. 

Phil. Begorra ! ye's may will say that — 

Capt. T. Silence! 

Phil. Will, I was only just afther remarkin' — 

Capt. T. Shut up ! 

Phil. I'm dumb. 

Capt. T. I caught them — 

Phil. Ye's wrong there, Captain dear. 'Twas jer- 
silf tumbled over a log ; an' a mighty sorry figure you 
cut. 

Becky and Teddy. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Capt. T. Silence ! I say. 

Phil. And I caught them. 

Capt. T. With wine, preserves, and sardines that 
I know came from my house. Are they thieves? 

Becky. No, } T ou hateful old thing ! 

Capt. Silence ! 

Phil. Faith ! Captain dear, give them a chance. 
Guilt}-, or not guilty? Those in favor, say I — 

Capt. T. Will 3*ou be quiet? 

Phil. To be sure I will. Be aisj 7 wid them, Captain 
dear. Sure, they're no thaves. 

Capt. T. Did 3011 come here to help me, or them? 

Phil. Will, I dunno ; but a thrue Irishman is always 



OUB FOLKS. 27 

wid the wake. That's what makes them so fond of the 
girls. 

Capt. T. Go home. I've done with you. 

Phil, ('joes to door) . All right. Don't lie hard wid 
them. If ye'a want my ividince, send a habus corpus 
for me. [Exit. 

Capt. T. Char out! (He keeps his back to Mrs. 
T.) New. then — 

Becky. Mind what 3011 say! I won't be called a 
thief. 

Mrs. 8. Becky, be silent. 

Teddy. Don't care: we ain't thieves. Only hook 
apples and melons. 

Capt. T. Where were yon going with that basket? 

(Enter Hilda, l.) 

Becky. Going to sec sick folks. 

Teddy. Yes : ami carry them something nice. 

Jfulda (looking int<> bushel). Land of liberty sakes ! 
[f them young ones ain't been lugging off my things! 

Capt. T. Yours? How came you by them? 

IInliin (snatching basket). That's my business. I 
didn't steal 'em. [Exit L. 

Berk;/. Oh. my! there's Harry. Teddy. (Hakkv 
steps fortgard. She runs into his <irms.) 

Harry. Yes, yes; my little tomboy. 

'/'■ Idy. By jinks! dow we'll have some fun. (Runs 
t<> IIakky.) 

Harry (shakes hands). How are you. old fellow? 

(Capt. T. comes down 1.. when Becky speaks, and 
ylarcs at Hakkv.) 



28 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. Harry Thompson ! 

Harry {stepping forward) . Yes, sir : Hariy Thomp- 
son. I hope I see you well. 

Capt. T. {angrily). No, I ain't well. The sight 
of you makes me sick. What are you doing here? 
(Becky, when Harry steps forward, steps up to Mrs. 

T., ivho shakes hands with her, and kisses her. They 

appear to talk together for a short time; then Becky 

takes apiece of chalk from her pocket, goes to closet, 

opens door a little way, holds it with her left hand, 

and appears to be drawing on the inside of the door. 

Teddy wanders to r., sits on the floor, and eats an 

apple. Mrs. S. exit l. Mrs. T. has some tatting, 

and quietly works and rocks.) 

Harry. Visiting some old friends, sir. 

Capt. T. Visiting, indeed ! You impudent puppy ! 
You've no right in the place. You've disgraced your- 
self. After all I've done for you, too ! 

Harry. Well, sir, what have you done for me? 
You are my father — 

Capt. T. No, sir: I disown 3-011. 

Harry. You were my father until I was sixteen 
years old. You gave me a home ; but when, with a 
boy's enthusiasm, I asked to be allowed to choose my 
own way in life, you objected, sternly objected, with 
the threat, that, if I dared to leave home, your doors 
should be closed against me. I could not relinquish 
my desire : you executed your threat. I had no right 
to complain of your treatment, since I disobe} r ed yon. 
I have prospered in 1113- undertaking, and so have no 
reason to regret my course. 



OUR FOLKS. 29 

Capt. T. Well, Bir; well, sir! And now, having 
prospered in your disobedience, you return with the 
hope that my doors will be opened to you again. 
Never, Bil' ; ne\ el' ! 

Harry. 1 shall never ask admission to your house. 
If ever I enter it while you live, it will be at your invi- 
tation. 

Copt. T. You'll never get that while I live. This 
is a trick to anger me. What brought you here? who 
set you up to this? Perhaps your mother — 

Harry. Stop, sir! To impute a base motive to my 
mother is unworthy of you, who know her goodness 
and truth so well. Heap upon me all the abuse your 
anger can justify. I can bear it ; but I should be more 
ungrateful than even you believe me, did I allow even 
the taint of suspicion to sully her pure name. 

Capt. T. <b> your way, base, ungrateful son! Not 
a cent of my money shall ever he yours! Keep out of 
my way, or I shall be tempted to horsewhip you. 

Becky (throwing open closet-door, on which should be 
a weU-executed sketch in chalk, on a black (/round, of a 
running horse with a girl on its back, and an old man 
running after). As you did me. (Points to picture.) 

Capt. T. Confound you all! You'll drive me 
mad ! [Exit door in flat. 

Teddy. By jinks! that's prime! Ha, ha, ha! 
(B» ky joins in tin- laugh. ) 

Harry. Well, mother, are you satisfied? 

Mrs. V. Perfectly. The time has not come for 
reconciliation ; but it will be brought about, never fear. 
(Rises.) I must speak with Delia. I will return 
soon. [Exit, L. 



30 OUR FOLKS. 

Becky. O Hany ! it's just splendid to have you 
back ! What fun we will have pitching quoits, and 
playing cricket ! I haven't had a game of cricket since 
you left. Come, let's go and shoot the basin. 

Harry. Shoot the basin? Why, Beck} T , how oW 
are j'ou? (Sits in rocking-chair.) 

Becky. Sixteen, I believe. (Sits on a stool at his 
side.) 

Harry. Sweet sixteen ! And she plays cricket, and 
pitches quoits, and shoots the basin ! What a smart, 
cultivated young lady ! 

Becky. Yes : I can do all 3*011 taught me. 

Teddy. By jinks ! that's so. Beats the fellers all 
holler. 

Harry (confiised) . All I taught you ? But, Beck}-, 
young ladies of sixteen should know something more. 

Becky. Well, I can fly a kite, kick football, row a 
boat, and — and — 

Harry. That's quite enough, if you expect to be a 
tomboy all your life. Young ladies of sixteen, some 
that I know, can cook, sew, sing, play, and — 

Becky. My ! you must know some fine ladies. 

Harry. Oh, yes ! Then they are educated. By 
the wa}*, Beck}', how do 3*011 get on at school? 

Becky. Haven't been for four 3'ears ; but I'm going 
next week, so the Cap'n sa3*s. 

Harry. I'm glad of that. 'Tis time nr-/ little play- 
fellow was making herself useful. To do all we can to 
improve ourselves, to do all we can to help others, — 
that should be the aim of all. 

Becky. Why, Harry, you never talked to me like 
that before. 



OUR FOLKS. 31 

Harry. More shame for me. Becky, you have 
been neglected ; brought up in ignorance. You are 
bright, smart, — why, the possession of that one talent 
(j)' tints to drawing on door) is enough to make you 
famous ! 

Becky. What, drawing make me famous? Ila, ha, 
ha ! that's easy enough. 

Harry. Why, I know a young lady in Cambridge 
who makes lots of money drawing for the engravers. 
ky. You know her? what's her name? 

Harry. Alice Parks. Pretty name, isn't it? 

Becky. And you like her? 

Harry. Oh, immensely! We're great friends. 

Beck;/. And she sings and plays for you? 

Harry. Often. 

!!■ cky ( rises ) . ( iood-by. 

Harry. Where are yon going? 

/>'. cky. i roing to shoot the basin. Come on, Teddy. 

Harry. No.no: it's dangerous. 

Beck;/, l'oh. who's afraid? It's only to take a pole, 
jump on a log in the water, push out, keep her head 
Straight, and yon glide over the basin, and strike the 
island in no time. 

Ilirry. But if yon miss, over the falls you go. 

Becky. Put I don't miss. Cateh me! 

Harry, stay and talk with me. 

Becky. No. I can't play or sing like Alice Parks. 
('. ing b., turns back.) I'm real glad yon talked to 
- \oii did. It's set me thinking. 

Ilirry. Then sit down, and lei me say more. 

Becky. No: I've had enough for one day. I'm 



32 OUR FOLKS. 

going to shoot the basin. It maj' be my last frolic. 
Come on, Teddy. 

Teddy. It's awful risky, Becky. 

Becky. If you're afraid you'd better stay behind. 

[Exit r. 

Teddy. By jinks ! I won't be stumped by a girl. 

[Exit r. 

Harry (looking off r.). She's a bright little body: 
pity she has been left to run to waste. But it's not 
too late. I've set her thinking. Something will come 
of that. 

Hiram Small (outside) . Whoa ! stand still, can't 
you? Anybody to hum ? (Enter door in flat.) Hal- 
lo, Harry Thompson ! 

Harry (shaking hands). Glad to see you, Hiram, 
and looking so hearty. 

Hiram. Hearty ! "Well, you never said a truer 
word. Of course I am, for luck's with me. When it 
goes agin me you never saw such a mean, miserable 
shyster as I am. But now it's just glorious. Mill run- 
ning on full time. Prices up, more than I can do. I 
can eat three square meals a day, sleep like a top, and 
be up to crow with the roosters in the morning. 
Where's all the folks? Where's Becky? 

Harry. She's gone to shoot the basin. 

Hiram. The deuce ! It's a bad day for that busi- 
ness. Water's too high. 

Harry. Do you think there's danger? 

Hiram. Well, I wouldn't risk it ; but Beck}* can do 
almost any thing. 

Harry. She wants looking after. I'll go at once. 
You'll find the folks in the sitting-room. \_Exit r. 



on: Fni.Ks. 33 

Hiram. Nice chap, Harry, and lie's got laming. 
Purty cute trick thai of Miss Thompson, to give him a 
college course, after the Cap'u wouldn't hear to it, and 

pay the bills out of his pocket. (Enter IIllda, l.) 
How de do, llulda ? 

Ilulda. Oh, don't ask inc. 

Jlirnm. Well, I won't if you don't want me to. 

Ilulda. I've got the dyspepsy and the lumbago and 
the asthma, and I've got nothing to live for. 

Hiram. Well, if you've got all those to take care 
of, I should say you had. You want livenin' up. 
'Sp086 I get the folks together, and come down and 
give you a Burprise-party. 

//■<'da. The noise would kill me. 

Hiram. I won't if you don't want me to. But I'm 
just dying for a time, — a real up-and-down, go in with 
your cowhide boots, and make all the noise 3011 can, 
BOOiable. If BOmebody don't get up a party and invite 
me, I'll set the mill afire just to hear it roar. 

Ilulda. Seems \>> me you're dreadful lively. 

Hiram. You're right, llulda. ( rood fortune always 
makes in.' as kinky as a grasshopper, as lively as a 
young colt. I want to sing, shout, dance. Oh for a 

g 1 old-fashioned cowtillion with a lively fiddle to set 

one's le._'> a-humming ! (Goes throuyh thejigures as he 
CaUs.) "Take your partners;" "all ready, Mr. 
White;" "first four forward and back;" "ladies 
chain;" " all forward ; " " swing partners." (Catches 
1 1 1 1 1> \, mid swings her. ) 

Ilulda. Mercy Bakes! do you want to kill me? 
( Drops int<> chair.) 



34 OUR FOLKS. 

{Enter l. Mrs. S., while they are swinging.) 

Mrs. S. Well, I never ! 

Hiram. How de do, Delia? Jest dropped round 
with a, barrel of flour. Wanted to give 1113' pony a lit- 
tle exercise. Been givin' Hulda a little too. 

Hulda. Exercise ! You've driven all the breath 
out of my body. 

Mrs. S. A barrel of flour for me ? Hiram, 3-011 're 
too good ! 

Hiram. Guess not. The good die 3-oung, and I'm 
going on sixt3 r . 

Mrs. S. But I have no claim on you. 

Hiram. Want to know ! Wasn't C3TUS a good 
friend to me, and every bod}- in trouble? Wasn't he 
always casting bread upon the waters? I'm only 
returning it in flour. You can make the bread. When 
Cyrus went awa3', 3-011 and 3'ours became " our folks " 
to everybod3' in the place ; so it's all in the family. 

{Enter Teddy, door in fiat, wringing out his ivet jacket, 
hair over his eyes, ivet.) 

Teddy. B3' Jinks ! we've had a scrape. 

Hiram. What's the matter, soniry? 

Teddy. Me an' Beck3^ went to shoot the basin. 
She got over splendid ; but I didn't head n^ log right, 
and was goin' by right straight for the falls. Becky 
she see I was goin' ; reached out and caught my log, 
tipped me over, and in she went. I caught the bushes, 
but she went down the stream. 

Hiram. And over the falls? 

Teddy. Almost. I 3'elled like sixt3 r ; the men come 
rurinin' out of the mill, but they couldn't do nothin'. 



OUR FOLKS. 35 

Then purty soon I saw another man rnnnin' with a 
rope. By jinks! it was Harry Thompson. He jest 
kicked off his shoes, tied the rope round his waist, 
give the fellers the other end of it, give a run, jumped 
In, caughl Becky just as she was going over the falls. 
The next minute they went under, and the next them 
fellers had 'em out; an' — an' — I'm awful hungry. 

• 8 to B.) 

Hiram. Well done! I'll raise the wages of every 
man in the mill. 

Mrs. S. Thank Heaven! But where is she? 
Where's my child? 
{Enter Harry, door in flat, with Becky in his arms.) 

Harry. She's here. (Enter Mrs. T., l.) 

Mrs. S. (staggering forward) . Becky! (Falls.) 

Hulda. Mercy sakes ! she's struck. 

Becky (whom Harry has set on her feet). 
mother ! I've killed my mother ! (Falls on her moth- 
i r's neck. Sloiv curtain. As it descends:) 

Mrs. T. Poor child! 'tis not her work; 'tis the 
Long watch for the ship that never comes. 

Picture. — Bins. S. and Becky on floor, c. Mrs. 
T. standing behind them, looking down. Hulda, it. c, 
with ii bottle which site takes from her pocket, and ivith 
which she is saturating a handkerchief, slightly bending 
forward. Teddy n., with a twist in his jacket, looking 
at Becky. Hiram i:., with his right leg over the corner 
of table, elbow on knee, chin on hand. IIakuv at the 
other end of table, lejl hand on table, right attack of his 
hi ad. Soft music. 



36 OUR FOLKS. 



Act II. — Scene : Sitting-room at Capt. Thompson's. 
Windows r. and l., in flat. Table between, covered 
with a red cloth ; on it a vase of flovoers and several 
books. Windoivs have muslin curtains draped. 
Canary-bird in cage, in r. window. Chairs in win- 
dows. Door r., next window. Closet r., between 
door and entrance. Desk l., back to audience ; arm- 
chair behind it ; arm-chair l. c. Capt. T. at desk, 
writing. Mrs. T. in arm-chair, r. c, knitting. 

Mrs. T. Well, Paul, did you have a pleasant day 
in Boston yesterday ? 

Capt. T. Did I ever have a pleasant day there? 
No. It's nothing but rush and bluster ; you can't talk 
to a man five minutes before he grasps his hat, and 
rushes off, sa}-ing he's "got to go and see a man." 
I've no patience with them. You'll not catch me there 
again soon. What's the news here since I've been 
gone? 

Mrs. T. Delia's no better. 

Capt. T. Didn't' expect she would be. It's two 
years since she was struck with paralysis. Little 
chance of her ever getting well. Hard lines for her, 
especially with that grumbling old Hulda Prime about 
her. 

3Irs. T. Ah ! the grumbler has gone, and in her 
place is a new creature. The blow that prostrated 
Delia made a new woman of Hulda. At once she 



OUR FOLKS. 37 

took charge of every thing : all her old troubles were 
forgotten : she's a good cook, a careful housekeeper, a 
handy nurse, and a good mother to the children. They 
and the house are as neat as wax. 

Capt. T. Bah ! that tomboy. 

Mrs. T. She's no longer a tomboy, but a bright, 
helpful little woman. She's been at school two years, 
and always at the head of her elass. 

Capt. T. Well, I'm glad she's turned about. I 
never liked her, and 1 hope she'll never come in my 
way. 

Mrs. T. Yet you are very fond of Teddy. 

( 'opt. T. Well, he's quite another sort. He's the 
coolest piece I ever met. He came into the ship-yard 
the day after the tomboy was pulled out of the water, 
as unconcerned as if nothing had happened. I was 
jus! going to drive him oil', when he asked me some- 
thing aliont the ship. I was so surprised that I 
answered him; and. confound him, I've done nothing 
hut answer his questions ever since. As for the rest 
of the family, I washed my hands of them long ago. 

Mrs. T. {with a mischievous cjlance at Cut. T.). 
I strange how they get along. They have a myste- 
rious friend somewhere aboul here. For the doctor's 
bill is regularly paid, and they've every thing they 
Heed. Who can it lie? 

Capt. T. (confused). Well — ah — hum ! You 
needn't trouble yourself to find out. It's none of our 
burin , 

Mrs. T. Becky's smart. Out of school-hours she 
works at the mill. 



38 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. She work ! Impossible ! 

Mrs. T. Now, father — 

Capt. T. Don't call me father. Haven't I told you 
I wouldn't be called father? I ain't a father! I won't 
be a father ! When that boy disobeyed me I cut him 
out of my heart, and I'll never forgive him, never. 

Mrs. T. (rising). Just as you please, fath — I beg 
pardon, I mean Paul. You know I never contradict 
you. (Opens closet, and takes hat and shawl.) 

Capt. T. Where are you going? 

Mrs. T. Out. 

Capt. T. So I see. 

Mrs. T. (aside). I wish he'd ask me where. 

Capt. T. (aside). She wants me to ask her where 
she's going. Catch me! (Aloud.) Don't be gone 
long : it's lonesome here without 3-011. 

Mrs. T. No longer than I can help. [Exit door r. 

Capt. T. (rises, and peeps out of window l. in flat). 
Hum ! told 30U so : there she goes straight down the 
hill to the Sleepers'. There never was such a woman. 
Deliberately disobeying her husband, bless her dear 
heart, I knew she would. Can't stand that. It's 
wrong. Obedience is a wife's first dut}'. But don't 
she make things fly over there? Poor Delia, she sha'n't 
want for physic as long as I live. And those young 
ones ! Well, well, bo3'S will be bo3 r s, and .girls will be 
— tombo3'S sometimes, I suppose. There she goes in 
at the gate. (Enter Phil r. 1 e.) Ah, my lad3' ! 
You'd like to find out who the nysterious friend is? 
No, no : I'm a shy old dog. 

Phil. Ah, ha, Captain ! is it a sly look at the girls 
3'e's havin' ? 



nil: FOLK'S. 39 

Capt. T. (turning quickly) . Hallo! you here? 

Phil. Yis, Mr; but ye'a can thrust me. I'll not 
till. 

Capt. T. Tell, you booby ! Can't a man look 
after his wife ? 

Phil. Oh : it's the misthress, is it? Well, that's all 
right : 1 forgive you. 

Capt. T. Well, what do you want? 

Phil. Did ye'a hear the news of the big fire down 
beyant there ? 

Capt. T. Fire? When? where? 

Phil. It was yisterday. Small's mill ; an' a mighty 
illigant blaze it was intirely. 

Capt. T. Small's mill burned down? 

Phil. No, burned up; for it caught in the lower 
fh ire. 

Cap*. T. Anybody hurt? 

Phil. Niver a one. The hands were at dinner; 
only two girls lift : Becky Sleeper, an' — an' the little 
cripple, Silly York's sister. They couldn't get out 
below : for, t\'\i' mind, it was all one roaring blaze. 
All, hut wasn't Becky the brave girl! the minute, she 
jisl raised a laddher to the Bkylight, tuk the cripple 
on the hack of her, and was on the roof in the twinkle 
of an eye ; thin begorra she riii hack, sthrippcd up the 
I'.i--. made a rope, and lowered her to the ground. 
Jist in time you may helave, begorra ! Didn't the 
paple shunt whin they Bee her coomin' ! 

Capt. T. It was a brave <\r^\. 

Phil. You ma\ will say that, for it's a judgment 
on 3 1 



40 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. A judgment on me ? 

Phil. To be sure, for trating her so shamefully 
whin she was a tomboy. She niver could have done 
it if she hadn't been trained to fates of ground an' 
lofty toumblin' loike the ac-crow-bats. Oh, she's the 
brave one ! If iver I have a girl, I'll make a tomboy 
ov her if I have to tie her hands and fate. 

Capt. T. {sitting at desk) . You go and find Hiram 
Small. Tell him I want to see him. 

Phil. All roight (going) . The young shaver Tiddy 
is outside. I've a moind he's waitin' fur a sight of 
ye's. 

Capt. T. Send him in. 

Phil. Will I foind the sisther, and sind her too? 

Capt. T. The tomboy in my house ? No. 

Phil. You couldn't do bether. 

Capt. T. Clear out. 

Phil. All right. Ye's haven't forgotten the toime 
she run away wid the horse, an' ye's afther her. Be- 
gorra ! how ye's did run ! (Captain rises.) Oh, I'm 
off. [Exit 1 E. R. 

Capt. T. (sits). So Small's had a streak of bad 
luck again. Sorry for him. But he's a stout-hearted 
fellow, and won't mind it. (Enter Teddy r. 1 e.) 
Hallo, Teddy ! are you there ? 

Teddy. Ay, ay, Cap'n. 

Capt. T. Well, Teddy, you've had a fire since I've 
been gone. 

Teddy. By jinks ! a buster. I tried to help. We 
got the blamed old ingine out, and got started down 
the hill with it ; but it went too fast for us, and we 



OUR FOLKS. 41 

had to scoot out of the way, I tell you. She run down 
the hill, and thru tipped over. That's all the puttin' 
out the Bre 1 di<l i bill Becky, she did enough for 
both; she's always doin' sometbin', but she's my 
sister. 

Capt. T. Sit down, Ted, till I get through my 
writing: then we'll harness up, and drive down to the 
yard. You'll find a book on the table. ( Writes.) 

Teddy. Ay, ay, sir. (Goes to table, takes book, 
draws arm-chair near Captain, and opens book.) By 
jinks, there's a lire. Ship on lire, and only a boy on 
it. 

Capt. T. (glancing at book, and then ivriting). Yes, 
that's the story of Casaluanea. 

Teddy. Who's he? 

Capt. T. The boy who stood on the burning deck. 

Teddy. What deck? 

( 'apt. '/'. The deck of the ship. 

Teddy. What ship? 

Capt. T. His father's ship. 

Teddy. What « 1 i < 1 he stand there for? 

Capt. T. (impatiently). Oh, read the story ! it's all 
there. 

Teddy. IM rather hear yon tell it. 

Capt. T. Well, the father was lighting the enemy. 

Teddy. What enemy ? 

Capt. T. The enemy of his eountry. 

Teddy. What country? 

< pt. T. Well — ah — yes, the eountry of a great 
king. 

Teddy. What king? 



42 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. Oh ! the king who sat on the throne. 

Teddy. What throne ? 

Capt. T. {groans) . Give it up, Ted. 

Teddy. Well, what's he doing? 

Capt. T. Who? 

Teddy. The Bunker boy. 

Capt. T. Bunker boy ! No, no ; Casabianca. He 
was told by his father not to quit his post without his 
permission. 

Teddy. What post? 

Capt. T. The post of duty. He was killed. 

Teddy. The boy ? 

Capt. T. No, the father. 

Teddy. Whose father? 

Capt. T. Casabianca' s. Then the ship took fire : 
the crew deserted the ship, but he nobly stuck to his 
post. 

Teddo . Who ? the father ? 

Capt. T. The father was dead. 

Teddy. Then of course he stude there. Well, what 
became of the boy ? 

Capt. T. He was bio wed up. 

Teddy. Who blowed him up? 

Capt. T. There, that will do for to-da}\ You go 
and harness the horse, while I finish my letter. 
( Writes.) 

Teddy (rising, and placing book on table) . Ay, ay, 
sir (comes down r.) : he was blowed up, the Bunker 
boy was. Served him right, for sticking there when he 
might have got ashore with the other fellers. Say, 
captain, where did he go to ? 



OUR FOLKS. 43 

( '<i)>t. T. {angry). Go to thunder with your in- 
fernal questions. 

'/'r<!<ln. Ay. ay, sir. [Exit r. 1 E. 

Capt. T. Bah! Tumbled into my own trap. I 
told him never to be afraid to ask questions, and I'll 
be hanged if he is. (Knock.) Hallo, who's that? 
(Shouts.) Here, you Silly, you silly thing, where are 
yen? 

Silly (outside a.). Coming. (Enter n. 1 b.) Do 
you want me, Cap'n? 

C<t]>t. T. No, I don't want you. Somebody's at 
the door: it' they want you, they're welcome to you. 

Silly. Do you want me to go to the door? 

Capt. T. What do 1 hire you for? 

Silly. Nine shillings a week. 

( 'apt, T. Start yourself, quick. (Silly goes to door 
B. c. B.) Here, you ! mind, I'm busy, and don't want 
e anybody. [Exit Silly, shutting door after her. 
That girl will be the death of me. 

Silly (outside). Oh, you dear little thing! I must 
hug you. ( Throws open door.) Come right in. 

Capt. T. Didn't I tell you I wouldn't sec anybody? 

(Enter Silly.) 
S '</. You don't know who it is. You wouldn't 
shut her out, would you? she saved my sister. 
Capt. '/'. (rises). Hang your sister ! she — 

(Enter I'.i < kv. door r. i r. b.) 
Beck;/ (gently). V^-'j: pardon, Capt. Thompson, if I 
intrude. Hut I have a little business with you. and 
it' you could kindly give me five minutes (icith a 
smile), oli. I Bhould be so much obliged] 



44 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt T. (aside, with a low whistle). Pretty as a 
picture. (Aloud with a low bow.) Certainly, Miss 
Beck}-, if I can be of service to 3-011. — Silly, you 
needn't stop. 

Silly. But I want to : she saved my sister. (Becky 
laughs.) 

Becky. I'll come out, and see 3'ou before I go : you 
are not afraid to trust me with the captain, are 3-011? 
(Laughs.) He won't eat me. 

Capt. T. (aside). She looks good enough to eat. 
(Aloud to Silly.) Here, you, start your boots quick. 

Silly. My gracious ! [Exit r. 1 e. 

Capt. T. (sits at desk, and motions Becky to a 
chair). Now, Miss Becky, what have you to say? 

Becky (hand on back of chair, r. c). Captain, I've 
been wanting to come to 3011, to thank 3-011 for being so 
kind to us all ; for helping — no, not helping ; for you 
have done every thing. Without 3*011, I don't know 
what would have become of us. 

Capt. T. (gruffly) . Bah ! Is that all you came 
for? 

Becky. No : I came to beg your pardon for being 
so much trouble to 30U when I was a wild tomboy 
(ivith a smile) , stealing your apples, riding 3-our horse, 
and leaving 3-011 to run behind. Oh, I know it was 
wrong now, and I'm so sorry ! 

Capt. T. Well, is that all 3-011 came for? 

Becky. No. When I found how poor we were, 
when I saw nv3' dear mother 13'ing da3' after da3" on her 
bed helpless, when I began to think of 3-011 and Aunt 
Hulda doing eveiy thing, and I strong and active, 



om folks. 45 

doing nothing, I felt ashamed of myself; so I went to 
work in the paper-mill. You know how it was de- 

st roved ? 

Capt. T. Yes ; and how a brave girl, at the risk of 
her own life, Bayed a weak and helpless companion. 
Oh, I know it all! 

Becky. Yes, the mill was burned. I had saved 
ninety dollars. Oh. I did so want to make it a hun- 
dred ! hut I couldn't. 1 meant to bring it to you. to 
pay you in part for what you have done for our folks; 
but I've I nought you ninety. {Places roll of bills on 
desk.) 

Capt. T. (sits back in his chair; looks at the money, 
then at BeCKt). You — you bring {affected; pulls out 
7iis handkerchief) — I who (wipes his eyes) — }'OU 
come — oh, this is too much! {Puts handkerchief to 
his eyes; lets his head full on desk, and sobs.) 

Becky (frightened^ after a pause). captain! I 
didn't mean to hurt your feelings: 1 only wanted to 
repay you just a little for your kindness. I didn't 
mean any harm ; indeed I didn't . 

Capt. T. (jumps uj>). Becky Sleeper, you're a 
little angel, and I'm an ugly old brute! (Crosses 
tn i:.) Pick up your money: I don't want it. To 
think that I've been abusing you all this time, and you 
coining in this way to pour coals of fire on my head! 
I'm an old fool ! (Crosses back t<> desk.) Take A'our 
money, quick ! 

/.' yv. No; you mustn't ask me to do that, captain. 

If you knew what a temptation that money has been to 
me — 



46 OUK FOLKS. 

Capt. T. Temptation? 

Becky. Well, I'll tell 3*011 ; but it's a secret. {Sits 
in chair it. c.) 

Capt. T. {pulls chair from desk, and sits near her). 
Oh ! it's a secret, is it? 

Becky. Yes. You must not tell, not even Aunt 
Rebecca. You won't, will you? Honor bright? 

Capt. T. Honor bright. 

Becky. Now, ain't this nice, to think of } T ou and I 
sitting so cosily together! Ha, ha, ha! it's just jolly. 
No one would think I had ever been such a torment to 
you ; and you ain't half so ugly as you used to be. 

Capt. T. Is that the secret? 

Becky. No. I've just learned of a very nice way 
to make mone}', — one I should like very much ; but it is 
necessary to make a journey to Boston, to see a man — 

Capt. T. {groans) . To see a man ! 

Becky. What's the matter? ain't you well? 

Capt. T. Go on. 

Becky. And this man would give me work, to make 
designs for engravings. Aunt Rebecca — no, Harry — 
told me of it ; your Harry. (Capt. T. scratches his 
head, and looks away.) {Aside.) He don't like that, 
but I'm not going to slight Hany. {Aloud.) I had 
the money to take me there ; and I was tempted to use 
it, — tempted, oh, so hard! until I remembered it was 
3'our mone}' ; and, to put the temptation from me, I 
brought it to you. I didn't want to until I had the 
hundred : now I'm glad I did. Had I gone, I should 
have disobeyed Aunt Rebecca, and — Harry. 

Capt. T. Why disobeyed Aunt Rebecca? 



oil: POLKS. 47 

Becky. Because the) (emphasizing "they" with a 
toss of hi r head) forbade my going until the expiration 
of the school-term. 

Capt. T. She forbid 3*ou ? nonsense! It's a capital 
idea; a nice way to rain money. And 3011 want to 
gi . ? 

Becky {clapping her hands). Oh, don't I ! If only- 
it was right I 

Cajrt. T. Right? of course it's right. She's no 
right t<> prevent you, and I should like to see her do it. 
You want to go to Boston : you shall go. 

Becky. Oh, if I only could! I know I should suc- 
ceed. lint what would Aunt Rebecca and — 

Capt. T. Hang Aunt Rebecca! I've just as much 
right to direct your actions as she has. I'm going to 
Boston to-morrow morning. You shall go with me. 

Becky {jumping up). Do you mean to say you 
will take me? 

Capt. T. To Boston to see a man, — a hundred if 
you want to. To Bee all the sights, — to the top of 
Bunker-hill Monument, and the State House. Y r ou 
shall see high life — 

Becky. Oh, that would he splendid! If I only 
could ! 

Capt. '/'. You can and shall. Go home, get ready, 
ami to-morrow morning at five o'clock meet me at the 

BChoolhoUSe. Phil shall drive 11^ to the depot, and at 

one we'll he in Boston. (Rises; takes money from 

"'. nk. ) Here, take your money (tosses it into her l"J>). 
When I want it. I'll ask for it. 

Becky (rises). Well, of all things in this world ! 
STOU icalU mean it? 



48 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt . T. Of course I do. 

Becky. Honor bright? 

Capt. T. Honor bright. 

Becky. Oh, glory! Ha, ha, ha! I'm so thankful! 
Go to Boston? me? I can't believe it. Ha, ha, ha! 
It's too jolly for airy thing ! 

Capt. T. Come, you haven't much time. 

Becky. I must see Silly first. 

Capt. T. Good-by, little one. Be sure and be on 
time. 

Becky. When the clock strikes, j'ou'll find me 
there. Oh ! how can I ever pay 3011? 

Capt. T. By shaking hands, and making a friend 
of the old man. You may add a kiss if you like. 

Becky {throwing her arms about his neck) . A dozen, 
3011 dear, good, kind, noble captain ! 

{Enter Phil., r. 1 e.) 

Phil. Ahem ! 

Becky. Good-by. {Runs offn. 1 e.) 

Capt. T. Well, what the d — 

Phil. Ais} r , captain. Remimber 3'e's a dacon, an' 
don't add profanity to ye's other sins. Oh ! I blush 
wid shame for the desate uv the world. 

Capt. T. You stop that, quick ! What do you 
want ? 

Phil. Sure, I found Misther Small, an' he's 
coomin'. 

Capt. T. All right. Have the horse ready to-mor- 
row morning at five. I'm going to Boston. 

Phil. To Boston, is it? Begorra ! an' it's only the 
day ye's said ye'd niver go to the infernal place agin. 



OUR FOLKS. 49 

('•Hit. T. No matter what I said : do as I tell you. 
Put iu both scats: I shall take Mis^ Becky with me. 

Phil, (whistles). Whew! the little one's coom it 
over the captain! Will, 1 never! {Knock.) 

Capt. T. See who's at the door. 

Phil, (goes to door, r. r. i:.). Et's all right, captain. 
[f you've taken the little one to yc's busom, it's a 
warrm heart ye'll be havin'. [Exit. 

Capt. T. (crossing to u. 1 E.). I've got myself into 
a scrap.- ; hut I'll carry it out. The}' say she sha'n't 
go: I Bay she shall. I do hate obstinacy. 

[Exit R. 1 B. 

Phil, (outside). He's waitin' for yees. Coom in. 
( Knt' r l'nii... u. o. e., folloived by Hiram.) Begorra ! 
1 1 -lit uv it ! 

Hiram. No matter: I'll come in again. 

Phil. Oh ! sit down, man, an' I'll be afther finding 
him. [Exit R. 1 E. 

Hiram (dropping into chair r. c, elbows on knees, 
hands hanging <l<>>ni). I ain't <j.<>t much of an ear for 
music; bul there's two tunes I've got pretty well ac- 
quainted with. — fortune and misfortune. The fust is 
a lively jig, ami the t'other is as melancholy as the 

Dead March in Saul. I've whistled 'cm both SO long 

that it seems a- though this whack of luck oughtn't 

to hit me BO hard. But it docs. I'm thrown, floored, 
actually busted ; and I feel mean enough to rob a hen- 

| /.' \t< r I 1 1 I DA, K. 1 . E.) 

Hulda. There he is. I thought he come in here. 
ts her hand mi Hiuam's shoulder.) Hiram, if 



50 OUR FOLKS. 

'twasn't Heaven's doing I should say you was the 
wust-treated man in town. 

Hiram, {looking up). How de do, Hulda? Yes, 
the old tune's struck up agin. I'd kinder lost the 
hang of it, so long since I've heeded it. But now it 
seems just as nat'ral as " Auld Lang Syne." 

Hulda. Hiram, I'm real sorry for you. Dunno as 
I'm welcome; and I'm sure this is the last house I 
ever expected to be in. But I couldn't help putting 
on m} r bunnet, and runnin' over to the mill to see you. 
When I got along here I saw you comin' in, an' the 
Cap'n going down the road, so in I came. (Takes off 
her bonnet, and drops it in chair l. c.) 

Hiram. It's real kind of you, Hulda, — somethin' 
I couldn't expect ; for I hain't treated you jest right, 
nohow. 

Hulda (brings down chair from window, and sits r. 
of Hiram). Oh, never mind me ! 

Hiram. Seems queer you should drop down on me 
jest then, Hulda ; for I've been kinder looking back, 
and jest when you put your hand on my shoulder, I 
was thinkin' of that day when horse, wagon, tinware, 
and peddler went through the bridge together. 

Hulda (sighs) . I remember it too. 

Hiram. Yes : you were stoppin' with Miss John- 
son, helping her with her Thanksgiving. You were a 
smart girl those days, — not handsome, but kinder 
good, wholesome-looking. Don't you remember my 
coming round to the kitchen, and jokin' you 'bout 
Cyrus Cheever, who was kinder makin' up to you? 

Hulda. Cyrus Cheever, indeed ! he was a fool. 



OUR FOLKS. 51 

Hiram. Yes ; an' I sang out to 3-011, " Don't have 
liiin. Hulda : wail for me; I'll call when I come back, 
and pop the question." (Laughs, then very sober.) 
Bui 1 drove off, and popped through the bridge; lost 
the chance. 

Ilnhla (aside). He'll never know what I lost. I 
took it in earnest, and waited and waited. Ah, dear 
mi' ! (Aloud.) Sonic of your nonsense. 

Hiram. I meant it, Hulda; as true as gospel I 
meant it. If it hadn't been for that accident I should 
have come back, and asked you, Hulda, true as preach- 
in'. But the old tune struck up, and 'twas no use try- 
in' to o.t up :i weddin' dance to such music as that. 
And then when 1 got in luck again, somehow 1 kinder 
gol stuck up, and got used to bein' my own master; 
but I iliil kinder keep thinkin' of you. 

Hulda. Nonsense, I liram ! 

Hiram. Bui what's the use of my telling you all 

this? We've got bj all that nonsense; and I'm Hal on 

my back agin, and poor as poverty. Don't 'sposc it's 
very manly in me to go confessing this thing now; 
but I've kinder felt mean about it. and your comin' to 
hunt me up. so cleverly and neighborly like, when I've 
nobody to feel Borry for me, has sorter made me do it. 
Hulda (/'lares her hand on his shoulder, ami, as she 
speaks, lets if slide down his arm, reaching his hand at 
the jhiisJi). Hiram. I'm glad you told me this. You 
needn't be ashamed of it neither. It's a manly thing 
tor you to do; it's wiped out some hard thoughts I 
had of you ; and I want \ oil to understand, that, if 

you'd come back that day, Cyrus Cheever, or any other 

man. would have been of no consequence at all. 



52 OUR FOLKS. 

Hiram {clasping her hand). Well, now, that's 
hearty of you. 

Hulda. Hiram, I'm real sorry for } r ou. What will 
you do now? your mill is ruined. 'Twill take a heap 
of money to build it up again. 

Hiram. Donuo, Hulda. But I ain't a bit scared. 
I've begun too many times at the foot of the ladder to 
give it up now. 

Hulda. Trust in Heaven, Hiram, trust in Heaven. 

Hiram. That's good pious doctrine, Hulda ; but 
I'm kinder unsteady on religious p'ints, and I think 
Heaven does the handsome thing when it gives us this 
world, with all its promises and store of materials to 
work and weave, and brains to think and arms to work 
with ; and we serve the Giver best when we take all 
this on trust, and turn it over, and work it up, and do 
the very best we can. That's my religion, Hulda, and 
I mean to live by it ; and, if I can do that, I ain't afraid 
it won't carry me over the river. So I ain't goin' to 
trouble Heaven to set me goin', but jest look round, 
find somethin' to do, and then pitch in with a will. 

Capt. T. {outside). All right, I'll find him. 

Hulda {jumping up). Mercy sakes ! here's the 
captain. I wouldn't have him see me here for a dol- 
lar. Where's m}' bunnet? {Looks round without see- 
ing it.) Must have left it in the entry. {Runs into 
closet r.) 

Hiram. That ain't the entry. 

{Enter Capt. T., r. 1 e.) 
Capt. T. Hiram, I'm mighty sorry for 3'ou. {Shakes 



OUB POLKS. 53 

hands.) If it had been one of my own ships I couldn't 

have fell worse. I \v:is out Of town all day yesterday, 

only heard <>f it this morning. Swept clean away, 

hey ? 

Hiram. Yes. captain; all gone. Some of the 
machinery might be saved, but it can do no good. 
What's the use of a horse if you oan't get a stable for 
him ? 

Capt, T. Well, the fust thing to do is to build a 
stable for your iron horse. 

Hiram. It's easy enough to talk, but where's the 
inoipy coming from? 

Copt. V. How much will it take to set the mill 
going again ? 

Hiram. Ten thousand dollars. (Whistles softly.) 

Capt. T. Ten thousand dollars? (Whistles loud- 
ly.) Any insurance? 

Hiram. Not a cent's worth. 'Twas too risky. 
You see. a little combustible cotton-waste swept away 
my fortune in a couple of hours. 

Co)>t. T. And you Bay ten thousand dollars would 

in' required to rebuild the mill? That's a big sum. 

Hi rum. Yes. The stock's clean gone. But my 
agent in Boston would fill me up. if I could only get 
the mill on its [egs again. 

Oapt. T. Ilm! l'ays good profit, hey? 

Hiram. Splendid! I had a customer for all I 

could make. Might rebuild on shares with m\ agents. 

I i_ r ue-s they'd come down with five thousand, if J 
could show the other five. 

ipt. T. Would they? Then you're all right. 
Hiram, lhiild it up. ami set it going. 



54 OUR FOLKS. 

Hiram. Yes ; but where's my five thousand coming 
from ? 

Capt. T. From my pocket, Hiram. 'Tain't the 
first time I've set }'ou up in business ; and, though 
you've failed many times, I never lost a cent. You've 
always paid me principal and interest ; and the money's 
3'ours when you want to set things going. If } r our 
agents won't go in with you, I will : though where so 
much money's coming from, I don't exactly see. 

Hiram (shaking the Captain's hand vigorously). 
Capt. Thompson, 3 r ou're a friend worth havin'. 
You've put new life into me. I thought my best 
friend was gone when the old mill went ; but I'm all 
right now. 

Capt. T. Of course 3 r ou are. Don't say any more 
about it, and don't let it leak out. I don't like to have 
my doings known. 

Hulda (running from closet). But they shall be 
known, you ugly old angel ! 

Capt. T. Hulda Prime ! You here? 

Hxdda. Yes; and thank Heaven I am here to see 
such a noble spirit ! Capt. Thompson, I've said hard 
things about you, and to your face too; but I take 
'em all back, — except about Harr} 7 , — that I will stick 
to. You did treat him mean. 

Capt. T. (sternly). Miss Prime, I am surprised to 
find 3 T ou here. 

Hulda. No more than I am to be here. Hiram 
will tell you all about it. You're just splendid ! Folks 
round here pity Miss Thompson because she's got such 
a brute of a husband ; but they needn't. I wish I had 
you — 



OUR FOLKS. 55 

Hiram. Hulda! 

Hulda. Law Bakes 1 I didn't mean that. You're 
just as good as you can be, and I'd like to hug 3-011. 
{Approaches Captain with outstretched arms. lie 
8 to 1..) Come, Captain, shake hands, an' forgive 
me. (Captain looks at her hand an instant, then takes 
it.) You'll never regret this day's work as long as 
yon live, — never! And I'll never go to sleep at night 
without a prayer for ('apt. Thompson. 

Capt, T. Pray as much as you please, Hulda : I 
shall need it all. But, if we are to be friends, not a 
word of what has been said here: you understand? 

[Exit L. 1 B. 

Hulda [looking after him). Needn't fear me. If 
you want to hide your light under a bushel, I'm not 
mean enough to kiel; it over. (Turns.) Hiram Small, 
what on airth ails you ? 

Hiram (who has been silently executing a double- 
shuffle). Doin'? Why, I'm ready to shout, dance, 
sing. The tune's changed, and I'm jest bilin' over. 
Hulda, just remember, the minit the new mill is up, 
you're Bpoken for. 

Hulda. Do you mean it, Hiram? 

Hiram. To he sure I do (clasping her in his arms), 
you dear old girl ! ( Huns hi r tight.) 

Hulda (loud). Mercy! I'm Crushed I 

(Captain appears l b. l. B» kv appears 1 b. b. Hi- 
i:\m sinks into cAiir, L. C, on Hilda's bonnet.) 

Capt. T. Hiram Small! 
7. Aunt Hulda ! 



56 OUR FOLKS. 

(Mrs. T. enters r. u. e.) 
Mrs. T. Who's crushed? What's crushed? 

(Hiram rises, and holds out Hulda's bonnet, crushed 
flat.) 

Hulda {snatching it, and holding it up) . Heavens 
and airth ! my bun net ! 
(Captain, Mrs. T., and Becky laugh. Quick curtain.) 



urn i-oi.ks. 57 



A.CI III. — Scene: Sitting-room at Mrs. Sleeper's. 
Door c. Windows draped tvith red curtains, R and 
L. in flat. Doors R. and L. /Sq/ti R. fcicfc, on which 
'l'i i»i»v lie* asleep. Armchair l.., in WAtcA MRS. 

Thompson is seated, knittinq. Table c M covered with 

a red cloth ; lamp burning upon it. Becky seated r. 
of tattle, drawing on a wooden block. HarryThomp- 
boh seated L. of table, reading a newspaper. 

Mrs. T. No more work to-night, Becky. You'll 
spoil your eves. 

Becky. Don't stop me, aunty 1 I must finish this 
(hawing to-night. That will make three this week, 
my usual number. 

Harry. Three drawings a week? My eyes, what a 
genius ! Thai beats Alice Parks. 

Becky {aside). Alice Parks] lie thinks of no one 
but her. 

Harry. Three drawings a week ! You must be 
getting quite a millionnairess. Lei me sec. two from 

tWO you can't. fOUT from four you Won't : twice two is 
four, and twice four is two. By the way. how long 
has this been going on ? 

Beck>/. What, your figuring? If it should go on 
forever, you'd never come to a sum total. 

Harry. Ii musl be a year. 

Becky. Jusl a year since the Captain gave me that 
famous surprise-party; took me to Boston to Bee the 
grouty and grumpy Mr. Woodfern. 



58 OUR FOLKS. 

Harry. "With whom 3-011 had the famous cricket- 
match. 

Becky. Ha, ha, ha ! such fun ! My tom-boy tricks, 
as the Captain calls them, served me well that time. 
He wouldn't look at my drawings. Didn't want 3*oung 
beginners, "more plague than profit;" and then he 
looked "Clear out!" though he didn't say it. I was 
just going to obe} T his mute order, when I saw, oh, the 
most splendid ci'icket-bat on the wall, just over his 
head! "Oh, what a splendid cricket-bat!" said I. 
"What do you know about cricket?" said he. "I 
know it's just the best game I ever played," said I. 
" You play cricket? " said he. " Yes, indeed ! Please 
let me take that bat: I won't hurt it." He took it 
down : I seized it, and handled it just as 3'ou taught 
me, Harry. "Now," said I, "if we only had a 
ball ! " He took one out of a drawer. " We have," 
said he. " What next? " — " Bowl me a ball, and you 
shall see; " and I placed nryself in position. Then 
he got excited; and, when I shouted '•Play!'' he 
bowled a swift ball. I struck quick and hard. It flew 
across the room, through a window, struck a glass 
globe filled with water, and down it came on the head 
of one of the workmen. He shouted " Help ! " and I 
screamed, "Gracious! what have I done?" Mr. 
Woodfern said, " It's of no consequence. Let me 
see j-our drawings;" and nn- fortune was made. 
Ha, ha ! how he did laugh, and shake his sides ! 

Teddy {dreaming) . Look out, Beck3' ! Keep her 
head straight : she's drifting. {Rolls off sofa on to the 
floor.) 



OTJK POLKS. 59 

Becky. Ha, ha, ha! Ted's dreaming. 

Marry. Careful, old fellow. If you don't take bet- 
ter care of your head, you'll smash it all to pieces. 

Teddy {sitting uj>. and rubbing his eyes). Don't 
care ! I won't be stumped by a girl ! 

Harry. Stick to that, Ted, and we'll make a man 
of you. 

Teddy {sits on sofa). What do you want to wake a 
feller up for? I was havin' the best time! Don't have 
any good times now, except you dream 'em, since 
Becky's taken to drawin', and has got a beau. 

Becky. Hush, Ted. I la, ha, ha! 

Harry. A beau? Who is he? 

Teddy. Why, didn't you know Herb Arnold, the 
minister's son, is awful sweet on our Becky? Yes. he 
tried t.. git on the right s ' ( h' of me. Wanted to know 
what's Miss Rebecca's favorite flower; and 1 told him 
she was very fond of Graham. Couldn't fool me. 

Harry. I toes he come here often ? 

Becky. Very often. {Laughs,.) 

Harry. And do 3'ou like him ? 

Becky. Of course. He plays and sings. (Laughs.) 

Teddy. He's got weak eyes, and wears gold specs. 
One foot's a little shorter than the other, and he's got 
a lisp; but he's a pretty good-looking feller. I guess, 

if I gave my consent, he'd give Hie a new sled next 
winter. 

Harry, t lonsider it well. Ted. 

Teddy. He's awful loud of Aunt Ilulda's pies 
S'pose piety runs in the family . 

{Enter Ih i.o.v. <l<><jr a.) 



60 OUR FOLKS. 

Hulda {holding her thumbs before her). Something 
queer's got into nry thumbs. 

Harry. Rheumatism ? 

Becky. Lumbago ? 

Teddy. Tic-douloureux, I guess. 

Hidda. Nonsense ! I got rid of them things long 
ago. No, it's a pricking ; and that's a sure sign 
something's going to happen. 

Harry. 

" By the pricking of my thumbs, 
Something wicked this way comes." 

Teddy. It must be Hiram Small. (Becky and 
Harry laugh.) 

Hulda. Now laugh ! I tell } T ou when I have that 
sensation, somethin' awful and mysterious always 
follows. 

Teddy (snuffing). Somethin's burnin' ! 

Hulda. Land of Goshen ! nry soap's bilin' over ! 
Come, Ted, and help me off with the kettle. 

[Exit door n. 

Teddy (rising). Her fat's always in the fire. 

[Exit door r. 

Becky. There: it's finished ! (Rises.) Now, I'll 
just take a look at mother. (Crosses to door l.) I 
won't be gone long. [Exit door l. 

Harry. Mother mine, at last we are alone ; and 
now, as aunt Hulda saj's, something strange is going 
to happen. I am going to surprise you. 

Mrs. T. Surprise me ? 

Harry. Yes. For a year I have been little better 
than a vagabond on the face of the earth, doing noth- 
ing, earning nothing, living upon your bounty. 



OUR Pol.KS. 61 

Mrs. T. And why not? Are 3011 not my son? 

Harry. Yes, mother; and, because I am your son, 
I hate myself for the idle Life I lead. I have youth, 
Btrength, an active brain, and au excellent education. 
These — with energy t<> pursue, and will to conquer — 
achieve greatness, and occupy high places in the world. 
1 would try my powers. 

Mrs. T. () IIarr\ ! you want to leave me? 

Harry. I must, mother. 

•• Care-cankering rust the hidden treasure frets; 
But gold tint's put to use i v gold begets." 

T must do Longer keep my treasure hidden, — the 
precious treasure with which your love has endowed 

me. I shall go to Boston, and study law. 

Mrs. T. But, Harry, your father? 

Harry. And what of him? To him T am a stran- 
ger. Almosi daily, I meet him: he pulls his hat over 
his eyes, and hurries by. He is a man honored among 
men. I lis good deeds have filled many hungry mouths, 
smoothed many hard and thorny places, and lightened 
many weary loads. Hut to his own sou. his only child, 
he is implacable, relentless. (Rises.) Let me go, 

mother. Afar off I can reaped him: but, if I slay 
here. I fear I shall learn to hate him. [Crosses to R. 

Mrs. T. You are right, Harry. You must leave 
this place. Fondly hoping that the way to reconcilia- 
tion mighl be found. I have kept you by my side; but 

dear as you are to me, painful as the separation wotdd 

be, I had rather oceans divided u-> than thai an}' act 

of mine should cause you to hate your father. 



62 OUR FOLKS. 

Harry (crosses, kneels at her side, and puts Ms arm 
about her) . Mother, forgive me ! It was a thoughtless 
speech. I could never hate one you love. 

(Enter Hiram. Small door c.) 

Hiram. How de do? I'm pretty well, I thank 
you. 

Harry (rises). Ah, Hiram! Walk in. 

Hiram. Well, I guess I can't stop. Thought I'd 
run over and tell you the mill is all ready. We're 
goin' to start the ingine to-morrow morning. Pr'aps 
you'd like to come up, and see her go? 

Harry. Thank you, I should. 

Hiram. That's all. Good-evening! (Going.) By 
the way, is Hulda to home ? 

Harry. Yes : she's in the kitchen. 

Hiram (comes down to door r.). Didn't think of it ; 
but I guess I'll step in and tell her. She might like 
to step over in the morning. [Exit door r. 

Harry. A poor excuse is better than none. So, 
mother, nry mind is made up. No more idleness, but 
good hard work. 

Mrs. T. So this is the surprise 3*011 had for me ? 

Harry. No, mother. Like Hiram, I kept my real 
object for a last disclosure. 

Mrs. T. And, like Hiram, you are in love? 

Harry. Why, mother, who told you? How did you 
find it out? 

Mrs. T. Oh, a little bird, you know. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Harry. Yes, mother. And that I may rear a home 
for the dearest girl in the wide, wide world — 



OUR FOLKS. 63 

(Enter Becky, door l.) 
Mrs, T. Hush: (Harrt walks over to r., whis- 
tling. ) 

Beck;/. Mother serins very uneasy to-night. I think 
she would like to see you, aunty. 

Mrs. T. (rises). I'll go to her at once. 

[Exit door l. 

Harry, Mother n<> Wetter. Becky? 

Becky (aits at table, as before). No, Harry. The 
doctor says some sudden shock may restore her. That 
would be a miracle, for 'tis three years since she Left 
her bed. 

Harry. We will hope for the liest. (Becky has the 
block mi which she has been drawing, in her hand.) 
Let me see your thawing. (Goes behind her chair, and 
looks over her shoulder.) Exquisite ! (Puts his left hand 
caressing on her left shoulder.) Ah, Becky, how proud 

and happy you have made us all ! (BECKY looks at the 
hand on her shoulder, and tries to draw aioay.) What's 
the matter? Do I hurt yon ? 

y ( with a si'/h ) . Oh. no ! 

Harry, There's grace and beauty in every line of 
that drawing; and it tells the whole story. 
.</. What stoi\ ? 

Harry, Unrequited love. There's a pretty girl in 
a hammock. She looks very much like you, Becky. 
She is sad. No: that's not like you. Her eyes are 
fastened on the group under the tree, — a young girl 
and a man: I suppose he is young too. or the young 
lady would not keep tier eyes upon the ground so. 
You only give a back view. But they are both in love 
with bim. How much she looks like Alice Parks! 



64 OUR FOLKS. 

Becky {irritated). Alice Parks ! shall I never bear 
the last of her? 

Harry. Yes, one of these da}'s, for she's to be 
married ; and then she'll be no longer Alice Parks, 
the dearest girl in the world. 

Becky {aside). He loves her! Oh, how he loves 
her ! 

Harry. Now, what do } t ou suppose that girl in the 
hammock is thinking, Beck}'? 

Becky. I could tell you in the language of the story 
given me to illustrate. Let me see, how does it go? 
" He loves her, the girl who one short week ago was 
a stranger to him. And I must give him up, my hero. 
Boy and girl, we roamed the woods together, floated 
down the stream among the lilies, and were so happy ! 
From that day I have had no thought, no wish, no 
hope, in which he did not have a share. I believed him 
all my own. And now — and — now he loves another ! 
My heart will break. {Drops her head upon table, and 
sobs.) 

Harry {bending over her). Wiry, Becky, what is 
this? 

Becky (Jumping up, and dashing her hands across 
her eyes). Oh, nothing! I must put awa}' things. 
{Lifts lamp from table.) Just set the table back, 
that's a good. fellow. 

Harry. But Becky. 

Becky. Do hurry : I can't hold this lamp all night ! 
(Harry takes table back to l. corner; Becky sets lamp 
upon it.) 

Harry {taking her hand, leads her clown a). Now 
tell me, Becky, why were you crying just now ? 



OUR FOLKS. 65 

Becky, [crying? Nonsense! 

Harry. You wen'. Your eyes are full of tears now. 

Becky. Are they? I've got ad orful cold in by 
head. (Sneezes.) Ahchoo! 

Harry. Becky, thai won't do. You must, you shall 
tell me. 

(Enter Teddy, door r.) 

'/'• 'I'b/. By jinks, I ain't goin' to stay out there any 
Longer .' 

Becky. What's the matter, Ted? 

Teddy. Hiram Small and aunl Hulda are the fun- 
nier! folks ! He sot down on one side the fireplace, and 
whittled : she sot on the other, and twirled her thumbs. 
she "hemmed," and he "hawed;" and then they 

both looked at me. (HABRT and BECKY hutr/h.) 

/.' cky. And you took the hint? 

Teddy. Didn't take nothin'. They was awful anx- 
ious 'bout me. Aunt Hulda wanted to know if it 
wasn't too hot for me oul there, and the next minute 
Hiram asked me if it wasn't too cold; then she wanted 
to know if I wasn't getting sleepy, and he said he 
was afraid I shouldn't be up in time to see the ingine 
start if I didn't go to bed pretty soon. I got disgust- 
ed, and left. 

Becky (/<"/ ;///.«?). Ah, Ted: two is company, and 
three is none. 

Teddy. I wonder what they are doing now? 
(Pushes door open a little.) By jinks, Reeky ! they've 
L r ot their chairs close together, and he's gol liis arm 
round her neck, and she's gol her head on his shoulder. 
Guess •-he's ack .- you'd better run for the camphire. 



66 OUR FOLKS. 

Becky (pulls him away). Coine away, Ted : they're 
sparking. . 

Harry. That's till, Ted. Don't disturb "love's 
young dream." 

Teddy. They sparkin' ? They're old enough to 
know better. 

Harry (takes his hat from table) . As mother is not 
quite ready to go }^et, I think I'll take a stroll. 

Teddy (takes his cap from sofa) . Lemme go with 
you? 

Harry. Come along, old fellow ! [Exit door c. 

Teddy (folloioing) . Let's go and stone the bull- 
frogs. I know where there's busters. 

Becky. So Alice Parks is to be married, — "The 
dearest girl in the world ! " (Sighs.) She will have 
the dearest fellow in the world ; and of course they will 
be well mated. 

(Enter Mrs. T., door l.) 

Mrs. T. (wiping her eyes) . Mother has dropped to 
sleep again. 

Becky (puts arm around Mrs. T.'s waist). Aunt}', 
you've been weeping. 

Mrs. T. Yes, Becky : I couldn't help it. Hair}' is 
going to leave us. 

Becky. Harry going away? 

Mrs. T. Yes, Becky. I know it is for the best ; 
but I shall miss him sadly. He is going to Boston to 
stud}' law. 

Becky (aside) , I see, — to be nearer Alice Parks. 

Mrs. T. His father's coldness is driving him away, 
and I have so longed to see them united ! 



m i; I"[.ks. 07 

Becky. And you shall. Harry shall not leave this 
j.larc w [thoul a reconciliation. 

Mrs. T. Who can bring them together? 

Becky. The neglected little girl whom you took to 
your bosom, ami made a helpful woman of; the girl 
whom he befriended, whom he Loves better than his 
own child ; the girl whom your son saved from death. 

Mrs. T. You. Beckj ? 

Becky. ITes, I! — at least I'll try; and that, you 
know, in a good cause, is like placing the foot on the 
threshold of success. I routed this redoubtable Cap- 
tain once, when he thoughl himself secure in his 
stronghold of obstinacy; ami the next time we meet 
I'll liml some way to bring him to my feet. 

Mr». V. Ah. Becky, 'tis a serious undertaking. 

Becky. And a glorious triumph if I succeed. To 
lift the cross you have home so meekly, from your 

shoulders; to restore Harry to his old place; to make 
the Captain happy in spite n\' himself, — why, it's just 
splendid ! I long to set aboul it. 

Mn. /'. Bui how? when? 

Becky. This very night. There's no time like the 
nt. {hooka toward window.) There's a light in 

your sitting-room : he must be there. {Snatches her 
hat from SOfa.) Yon stay with mother until 1 return, 
and I'll run over and attach the enemy at once. 

Mrs. V. Heaven prosper you, child! Be prudent 
and brave. [Exit <1<><>r i.. 

Becky. Like the Spartan youth. I will return with 
m\ shield, or on it. {Ooesupc. Enter (\\rr. T., door 
c. Bbcri <-'>>ihs down Refolds her arms, and stands 

iril/i I,, /• back to him. ) 



68 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. T. {speaking as he enters) . Ah, Becky, here 
you are ! I haven't seen you all da} r ; and I couldn't 
go to sleep without a sight of my little will-o'-the-wisp. 
How's this? — not a word, not a smile, for the old 
man? 

Becky (turning). Capt. Thompson, you are a 
member of the church, a deacon : you should know 
what is right. Tell me, should I love the wicked, or 
hate them? 

Capt. T. Hate 'em ! Hate 'em like pison ! 

Becky. Then, Capt. Thompson, I hate 3-ou ! 

Capt. T. Hate me? What have I done ? 

Becky (fiercely). Every thing that is bad. You 
have scattered your riches for good ; but the dearest, 
best treasure Heaven bestowed you have squandered 
on an evil passion. You have made a fond mother's 
heart bleed ; and you have bitterly wronged a proud 
and noble son. 

Capt. T. (furious). Silence! You dare accuse 
me? — 3'ou, a little jade I saved from the workhouse ! 
Beck}' Sleeper, are you mad ? 

Becky. I have spoken the truth. Your son — 

Capt . T. 'Tis false ! I have no son. And, if I had, 
who are 3 r ou ? 

Becky. ' Becky Sleeper, whom you saved from the 
workhouse. Veiy manly to boast of it, wasn't it? 

Capt. T. Once for all : I will not hear that for- 
bidden name mentioned — 

Becky. In this house 'tis a name as much honored 
as that of his father. He saved me from a watery 
grave, quite as noble an act as to have saved me from 
the workhouse. But then he has never mentioned it. 



ODB POLKS. 69 

Capt. T. (draws a fierce breath, then checks himself, 
bows). I beg your pardon. 'Twas a thoughtless 
Bpeech, which I regret. 

Becky {bows). Thank you! Now we will proceed. 
When will you ask Harry home? 

Capt. T. Never! 

Becky. Oh, yes, you will! Think a moment. 
Some philosopher 1ms said that a man's body under- 
.111 entire change every seven years; why not 
his feelings as well? It's just seven years since you 
drove him away. Now open your arms, and take him 
back, and your being has undergone an entire change. 
Don't you Bee? 

Capt. T. Never! He wilfully disobeyed me: I'll 
never forgive him. 

Becky. So did I — many a time; and you've for- 
given Ilie. 

Capt. T. Becky, no more of this. Don't you see 
what a furious paSsiOD I'm in? 

Becky. A wicked passion, born of a sinful hate 
towards the son who has honored the name you gave 
him. 

Capt. T. Becky. {Approaches her with clinched 
/mini raised to strike her; stops, lets it fall upon his fore- 
head.) Heaven help me! what would I do? (Staggers 
/■' arm-chair l., falls int<> it, covers 'his face with his 
hands, mi'l sobs. ) 

Bed (after a pause slowly approaches him) . Dear 

Captain. I am sorry if I have >poken too harshly; but 
! have a deal' mother in that room, whose pale, sad 
lace lights up with joy when 1 approach. She has 



70 OUR FOLKS. 

borne her trials so meekly, so patiently, that her pres- 
ence has come to fill my heart with a holier love than 
ever it knew. Over her bends another mother, whose 
heart is saddened at the thought that ere many days 
she must part with a son who is her life; her pride. 
Feeling all this, I have dared to speak with the hope 
that I might awaken the paternal affection that has so 
long slumbered in your dear old heart. If you still 
think I have done wrong, I will leave you. (Pause.) 
Shall I? (Capt. T. turns his head away, then slowly 
extends his right hand. Becky seizes it, hisses it, then 
sits on stool near his chair.) Oh, this is just splendid ! 
You're not angry with me now? (Capt. T., still keep- 
ing his head turned aivay, shakes it energetically.) No? 
Then I'll tell 3 - ou a secret. You won't tell, will you? 
(Capt. T. shakes his head.) Honor bright? 

Capt. T. Honor bright. 

Becky. You remember when we went to Boston? 
Didn't' we have a jolly time? (Capt. T. nods his head.) 
I told you I met a young girl at the engraver's, — Miss 
Alice Parks. (Capt. T. nods.) Well, she's a dear 
friend of Harry's, your Harry, Captain. I shouldn't 
wonder if one of these da}s she should become his 
wife. 

Capt. T. (sitting straight). Become his wife ? Hum- 
bug ! What are you thinking of, Becky ? 

Becky. Well, all I know, he calls her " the dearest 
girl in the world," and she calls him her dear friend, 
and they write to each other ; and that's the way lovers 
do, don't they? 

Capt. T. He many that girl! I'd like to see him 
attempt it. 



OUR FOLKS. 71 

Beck;/. Why. Captain, she's :i splendid girl : and. 
if they love each other (sighs), I'm sure it's only right 
that they should marry. And then Harry's so good! 
it would be wicked to prevent his happiness. You 
won't, w ill you, Captain ? 

('apt. T. I'll put a stop to that. He Bha* n't marry 
that girl : I won't have it. 

Becky. Why. how can you stop it? 

Capt. T. I'll find a way. 

Becky. He would hate me if I made trouble between 

him and you ; and I love him so dearly ! (Puts her 
hands t<> her eyes, and sobs.) Don't, Captain, don't! 
You'll break my heart. 

Capt. T. {putting his arm about her, and drawing 
her If'al to his breast ). There, child, don't cry. I 
won't interfere. (Aside.) The little girl loves him 
herself. Ah! if that could be brought about, she would 
he my <>wn daughter. (Aloud.) I must he getting 
home. (Iiisis.) Come up and see me to-morrow. 

Becky (n'srs. places her hand mi his arm, and looks 
uji into his fuc) . Shall I Come alone? 

Capt. T. (draws <> deep breath, turns his head away, 
tin i, /ums to Becky, with feeling). N<>. Becky; not 

alone. Bring him with you, — bring IIarr\ home. 

< lipids nut his hands to /"'/•. > 
Becky (throws her arms "bout his neck). Oh, dear. 

dear Captain — But stop: you must ask him yourself. 
Capt. '/'. I? 

'i . - : he'll not come unless you do. lie's 
as obstinate as — Well, he came honestly by it. 
Luckily he's close at hand, and you shall extend an 
invitation this very night. 



72 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt . T. But, Becky — 

Becky. Don't say a word. Delays are dangerous. 
Don't stir till I return. You won't, will you? 

Capt. T. (hesitating). N-o. 

Becky. Honor bright? 

Capt. T. Honor bright. 

Becky. All right. (Runs up and out c. door, 
shouting) Harry, Harry ! 

Capt. T. The little witch ! she has fairly conquered 
me. And I must meet the boy at last, and humble 
myself before him. (Fiercely.) No, I'll not do that. 
He has been to blame. Let me remember that, and 
meet him as a wronged father should. Hark ! I hear 
his step. He'll find no penitence in me. (Enter 
HAimy, door c.) For Becky's sake I'll take him 
back, but it shall be as the stern, wronged parent I 
am. 

Harry (advancing). Father — 

Capt. T. (turns quickly) . O Harry, nry boy ! Come 
home! (Seizes his hand.) I've been a bad father 
to 3*ou. Take me back, and I'll try to do better. 

Harry. Dear father ! (Puts his arm about him. 
They go to sofa, and sit.) 

(Enter Becky, door c.) 

Becky. It's all right. Oh ! isn't this just splendid ? 
(Runs to door l.) Aunt Rebecca! (Enter Mrs. T., 
door l.) See there ! (Points to sofa.) 

Mrs. T. (hugging her). Dear child, j'ou've con- 
quered. (Goes to sofa, kisses the Captain, and sits 
beside Harry. Becky places her thumbs under her 



OUR POLES. 73 

arms, and struts over to n., singing, " See, the conquer- 
ing hero comes." ) 

(Enter Teddy, door c, ruiining.) 

Teddy. O Becky ! (Runs down, catches her in his 
arms, and, lifting her off her feet, whirls her round.) 

Becky. Why, Ted! arc yon crazy? 

Teddy. Crazy ! I'm stark, staring mad. You 
can't think, you've no idea. He's come, he's come! 

(Enter Mrs. S., door l.) 

Mrs. S. (tottering forward with a cry). Oh ! where 
is he ? 

Becky (starts toward her; party on the sofa rise). 
Mother! 

Mrs. T. Delia ! 

Mrs. S. Oh, I knew he would come ! I saw the 
moonlight on his sails as he rounded the point. Hark ! 
I hear his .-tip. 

(Enter Cut. Si i i per, door c.) 

Capt. S. Delia, wife! Home, home again. 

Mrs. S. My husband ! (Runs into I/is arms.) 

Becky. My father I 

'■/</. Xes, it's OUT old dad, safe and sound. 

Capt. T. C'y Sleeper, by all that's glorious! (All 
go towards Capt. S.) 

' v Stand back, friends, she's fainted. (Car- 

ries /'is wife to sofa, and pio<->s her on it.) 

Mrs. 7'. I will see t" her, Cyrus. {Goes to sofa, 

anil busies herself about .Mi;-. S., rubbing lor hands, 

thing her lour, and like attentions. Cut. S. comes 

,s'./;/< .) 



74 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt. S. Ay, ay ! that's tender work for a sailor's 
rough hands. Well, Paul, old boy, how are you? 

Capt. T. (l. c. shaking hands) . Cyrus, old fellow, 
welcome home ! 

Harry (l). Welcome! (Shaking hands.) 

Capt. S. (turns to Becky, r.) . And this is my little 
girl I left behind me? 

Becky (running into his arms) . O father ! 

(Enter Hulda, door r.) 

Hulda. Land of liberty sakes ! if there ain't C}<rus 
Sleeper ! Where on airth have }'ou been these eight 
years ? 

Capt. S. (takes her hand). You're looking well, 
Hulda. Ain't married yet? 

(Enter Hiram, door r.) 

Hiram. No ; but things are looking mighty promis- 
ing. Well, I snum ! if that ain't Cyrus Sleeper ! 
How de do? 'Bout given jou up. 

Capt. S. (shaking hands). Never give tip the ship, 
Hiram. 

Capt. T. Give an account of } r ourself, Cyrus. 

Capt. S. All in good time. I've seen all sorts of 
luck ; but, thanks to " the sweet little cherub who sits 
up aloft to look out for the life of poor Jack," here I 
am again, safe and sound. 

Hidda. But why on airth didn't you write? 

Capt. S. I did write, more than five years ago, a 
letter a yard long ; and mighty hard work it was. 

Hulda. But we never received it. 



OUR FOLKS. 75 

'. 8. Because I never got a good chance to send 
it (t<ikes letter from pocket) : so I brought it myself. 

Hulda. Did ever anybody see such a man! But 
why — 

Copt. 8. Avast there, Hulda 1 My wife's questions 
must be answered first . 

Hulda. STou'lI liml her in that room. She hasn't 

left her bed for three years. 

Mrs. '/'. You are mistaken, Hulda. She is here, 
and really better. 

Hulda ((joes to sofa). My sakes ! did ever anybody 
see the beat of it? (Capt. T. and Capt. S. talk to- 
gether c. Harry and Becky are together l. Hiuam 
ami Teddy together k.) 

/v. By jinks! I forgot something. (Crosses 
to Hakim.) Say. Harry, when I was down to the post- 
office to-day, old Postage-Stamps give me this letter 
for you. (Gives letter. Hilda comes down B., and 
joins Hii:\m. (aim. S. takes a chair, and sits by his 
wife. Capt. T. goes to table. Bias. T. joins him 
there. Teddi goes <n> stage, and stands beside Capt. 
S.) 

Harry (opening letter, c). Ah, here's a surprise! 
(Looks at letter thoughtfully.) 

Beck;/ (comes t<> his siil,'). What's the matter, 
Harrj '. 

Harry. Oh, nothing! I was only thinking. 

Becky. Indeed! Then perhaps I'd better retire. 
I wouldn't for the world interrupt your new occupation. 
( Laughs. ) 

Harry. That's right! laugh, Becky. It's an old 



76 OUR FOLKS. 

occupation that's very becoming to you. It reminds 
me of the days when we were both so } r oung and happy. 
We were great friends then, Becky. 

Becky. I hope we are good friends now. 

Harry. Of course we are. But now you are quite 
a woman, full of cares, yet a brave, good, noble little 
woman. 

Becky. Thanks to those who trained the vine once 
running to waste. What I am I owe to those who 
loved me. What I might have been without their aid, 
not all the riches in the world could have prevented. 

Harry. True, Becky. By the way, I've a letter 
from an old friend will interest you. Oh, such startling 
news ! 

Becky (sighs). From Alice Parks? 

Harry. Yes. You know what an interest I take in 
that young lady's welfare, and you shall share my 
delight. Look at that. (Hands letter. Becky takes 
letter. There drop from it two cards fastened with rib- 
bon. Harry picks them up, and hands them to her.) 

Becky. O Harry, she's married ! 

Harry. Certainly. Mr. George Woodfern and Miss 
Alice Parks, after a long and patient courtship, have 
united their destinies. The designing young woman, 
having engraved herself upon the heart of the young 
engraver, the new firm is ready for business. 

Becky. O Harry ! I'm so sorry ! 

Harry. Sorry ! For what, pray ? 

Becky. Sorry for jou, Harry. They will be happy ; 
but you — you — you loved her so dearly ; didn't you? 

Harry. Sorry for me? Well, I like that. Ha, ha, 



mi: 1<»LKS. 77 

ha! Loved her? Why, Becky, what put that into 
\ our head ? 

Beck;/. Why. I fain, you wrote to her, and she 
wrote !<» you. And I told the captain I thought you 
were engaged. 

Harry. Oh! you told him, did you? No, Becky. 
I esteem that young lady highly; but love her, make 
her my wife ! I never had the least idea of it. My 
heart i> engaged elsewhere. 

Becky. Indeed! I never heard of it. 

Harry. That's my misfortune, then. (Puts his 
arm about her waist, and takes her hand.) I have 
always loved a dear old playmate, —one whom I have 
watched glow into strong and beautiful womanhood, — 
one whom I would not wrong with the offer of my hand 

until I had fully proved my power to win my way in 

the world. Do you know her name? 

Becky {drops her head upon his breast). Harry. 

Harry ! I'm so glad, so glad ! 

Harry. Becky, I was right about the young lady in 
the hammock. (Lends her to Cut. T.) Father, your 
daughter ! 

<'<t[>t. T. Bless my eyes! {Kisses Becky.) Well, 

well ! We heat the Tarks girl, after all. 

Mrs. T. {embraces Becky). Ah, Harry! I found 
you out long ago. 

Capt. T. Cyrus, old hoy. there's been poaching on 
your grounds. 

Capt. 8. All right. If my dove must go, it's but a 
new branch of •• our (bis 

Mrs. 8. o Cyrus. I am bo happy! I thought you 
would never OOme: it was Mich weary waiting. 



78 OUR FOLKS. 

Capt . S. "Well, well, sweetheart ! No more part- 
ing. I made a fortune five years ago, lost it through 
a rascally partner, and tried again, and regained all 
I had lost. So down comes the old house, and up 
goes a palace of gold if 3 T ou want it. 

Teddy. By jinks! Dad has come home rich. I'll 
have a double runner. 

Hulda. Well, Cyrus, what's the most precious sight 
you've seen since you left? 

Capt. S. (hand on his wife's head). My dear old 
sweetheart, with the glad welcome in her eyes. (Looks 
at Hulda.) A dear old girl, after years of waiting, 
on the road to peaceful happiness. 

Hiram (tucks Hulda' s arm under his). That's so 
— if that boiler don't burst to-morrow. 

Capt. S. (looks at Becky). A dear girl, happy with 
the lad she loves best. (Harry takes Becky's arm.) 

Capt. T. And an old friend who has turned from 
the error of his ways. Don't leave me out, Cyrus. 
We're here, a united family. 

Capt. S. A realization of the old song of the min- 
ers' camp, — 

" Afar, afar, on a shining shore, 

We turn the earth for its golden ore, 
To find at last, when we backward roam, 
Most precious of all are 'our folks' at home." 

(Keep positions.) 

Slow Curtain. 
[Music, " Old Folks at Home."] 



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Reading Club and Handy Speaker, 

Edited by George M. Baker. 
Price, vloth,60 cents; paper, lfi cent*. 
CONTENTS. 



The Tramp 

Joan of Arc 

Decoration 

Minot's Ledge . 

Scene from " The Hunchback 

Widder Green's Last Words 

The Cane-Bottomed Chair 

The House-Top Saint 

Tom .... 

The Song of the Dying . 

My Neighbor's Baby 

" The Paper Don't Say " 

The Post-Boy , 

What is a Minority? 

Robert of Lincoln , . 

Daddy Worthless . 

Zenobia's Defence . 

William Tell . 

Mary Maloney's Philosophy 

Custer's Last Charge 

Mother's Fool . 

The Little Black Eyed Rebel 

" The Palace o' the King " 

Grandfather 

" Business " in Mississippi 

The Indian's Claim . 

The Battle-Flag of Sigurd 

The Way Astors are Made 

Mr. Watkins celebrates . 

The Palmetto and the Pine 

Pip's Fight 

Cuddle I)oon . 

The Hot Roasted Chestnut 

St. John the Aged . 

The Bell of Atri 

Mr. O'Hoolahan's Mistake 

The Little Hero 

The Village Sewing-Society 

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep 

The Dignity of Labor 

A Little Shoe . 

" The Penny Ye Meant to Gi'i 

A Question 

The Cobbler's Secret 

The Lost Cats . 

The Pride of Battery B . 

Leedle Yawcob Strauss . 

Two Portraits . 

Elder Sniffles' Courtship 

Coin' Somewhere 



George M. Baker. 
DeQuincey. 

T. II'. Higgivson. 
Fitzjaiues O'Brien. 
Sheridan Knowles. 

Thackeray. 

Mrs. J. D. Chaplin. 

Constance Fenimore Woolson 



Mrs. C. J. Despard. 

J. B. Gough. 

Bryant. 

Lizzie W. Champney. 

William Ware. 

Philadelphia Bulletin. 
Frederick Whittaker. 

Will Carle ton. 
William Mitchell. 
Theodore Parker. ■ 
Chronicle, Augusta, Ga. 
Everett. 

J. M. Bailey. 

Detroit Press. 

Mrs. Virginia L. French. 

Dickens. 

Alexander Anderson. 

J. Ed. Milliken. 



Longfellow. 



Rev. Neimnan Hall. 
H.H. 



F. IT. Gassaway. 
Charles F. Adams. 



M. Quad. 



Sold by ill booksellers and nncxhril rrs. and sent by mail, postpaid, 
receipt of price. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 




The Freshest, Brightest, and Best, are the 50 Choicest 
Selections in the 

Reading Club and Handy Speaker, 

Edited by Gvoboh M. Rakkk. 
■ '■■!'!, .'in cents; /"tj"r, l~> cento* 
CONTENTS. 



The Ballad of Ronald Clara . 
The Scotchman at the Play . 
The )>.:i.l ]><>M .... 
.\ i lharge » nit Prince Rupert 

Am Irir-li W;ik«- .... 

The I loneel 1 beacon 

Tad imd Talent .... 

The T« " < • lasses .... 

Whistling in Heaven 

Noble Re> engo .... 

1 1 ..i llnby <rir Mine (By perm] 

The Amateur Spelling-Match 

Why Biddy and Pat got Married . 

Art-Matters in Indiana . 

M u l-Miili belpa Things along 

The l'l I and the Ark . 

Noi I '• ad, inn Risen 

of :. Baker .... 



Uncle Renins' Revival Hymn 
.\ Mysterious Disappearance 
An Indignation-Meeting . 
Bonn thing spilt .... 
Prom tin- Bubllme to the Ridiculous 
•■ tla I. m u Step" 

fi ■•in •• The marble Ha 
The Seven Ages .... 
a Watch that " wanted cleaning." 
Bj i" rmlsslon ... 

" [hers. 

(i l-by 

"One of the Boys "... 

The Bridge 

A Rhine Legend .... 
The I. ml. Shoes did it . . . 
Burdock's < i< ».-it .... 
Faithful Little Peter 
Blue and « Sray .... 

le? .... 

W M - 

n the Lines .... 
Mother 
The I' illad ■■) ' instance 



The Canteen 

' • ■ 
test 
loubl .... 
Km 

- i . i-i .... 




eart ' 



Thomas 8. Collier. 
" Mawde Waxich." 
Mnrgart t Vandegr^ft. 
'/'. w. Uigginson. 



London Atlas. 

Harper'* Magazine. 

(Inn I, | Fallen Adams. 
Karl Marble. 
B. II. Stoddard. 

Bret Ilarte. 



CharUi Dteksns' Pickwick Paper* 



Char/en 8i ll>y. 

Shaksptan. 
j. r. FU Ids. 



Frank For rrnft. 

If. W. Longfi How. 
On-tin Guild. 



William Winter. 

<: >;. ffalpim 'Miles O'lleilly). 

h a -in Russt II. 

.!'_/>' '/ Austin. 
Bout Icavtt. 



. ■ i -• -,t 1 1/ mail, postpaid, on 

■ 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 




The Best Yet. 50 Rare Selections. 

Reading Club and Handy Speaker. 

Edited by George M. Baker. 
Price, cloth, 60 cents ; paper, 15 cents. 

CONTENTS. 

Count Eberhard's Last Foray Thos. S. Collier. 

Tammy's Prize 

Deaf and Dumb Anna F. Burnham. 

The Changed Cross 

Virginius to the Roman Army Elijah Kellogg. 

The Fountain of Youth Hezekiah Bulterworth. 

They Met 

Clerical Wit 

Greeley's Ride Mark Twain. 

Der Shoemaker's Poy 

The Sergeant of the Fiftieth 

The Fan Drill Spectator. 

Warning to Woman 

The Cavalry Charge F. A. Duriwge. 

Widow Stebbins on Homoeopathy Charles F. Adams. 

The Fight at Lookout It. L. Gary, Jun. 

The Well-Digger John G. Saxe. 

Behind Time Freeman Hunt. 

A Miracle Charles II. Webber. 

Weaving the Web 

The Great Future George F. Hoar. 

A Christmas Carol 

"Them Yankee Blankits" Samuel W. Small. 

Jim Lane's Last Message Sherman £>. Richardson. 

One Touch of Nature 

A Disturbance in Church Max Adeler. 

The Palmer's Vision J. G. Holland. 

A " Sweeter Revenge " 

The Farmer's Story David Hill. 

Paddy O'Rafther Samuel Lover. 

The Fireman's Prayer Russell II. Conwell. 

Down with the Heathen Chinee! New- York Sun. 

John Chinaman's Protest M. F. D. 

The Sweet Singer of Michigan 

Ten Years After Kate Putnam Osgood. 

Putty and Varnish Josh Billings. 

Nationality Rufus Choate. 

Tacking Ship off Shore Walter Mitcliel. 

Immortality Phillips Brooks. 

Mr. Coville Proves Mathematics . . . . . . . J. M. Bailey. 

Blind Ned Irwin Russell. 

The Benediction Francois Coppee. 

"Conquered at Last" Maria L. Eve. 

The Ship-Boy's Letter 

An Irish Love-Letter George M. Baker. 

Reserved Power 

Talk about Shooting 

The King's Kiss Nora Perry. 

Joe's Bespeak 

A Disturbed Parent 

Sold by all booksellers and newsdealers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on 
receipt of price. 

LEE & SHEPARDj Publishers. Boston. 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 



A Drama in Four Acts. 



BY GEORGE M. BAKER. 

PRICE, 23 CENTS. 

Deservedly popular as are the plays written by Mr. George 
M. Baker, we Lave never seen or read any of his works which 
can equal " Better than Gold," which has just been published. 
The play is one which will become one of the greatest favorites 
among amateurs, and is sufficiently strong t<> merit a season 
upon the professional stage. The plot is cleverly conceived, 
and the parts are all good ones, which in proper hands must 
make the performance one ['leasing to any audience. The 
pails are: a rather foolish old lawyer who weds a young wife, 
and is ruled by her; a noble-minded man who, as the years 
change, sees his fortune, his manhood, and his good name 
swept from him, till at last, maddened by drink, lie kills his 
wife, tlie whole turning out to he hut a dream < aused by his 
first drunken carouse; a good-natured, blundering young man : 
a dissipated and disinherited son. who by means of wine and 
gambling gains what he deems his birthright (a Btrong char- 
acter, if well taken i; and a colored servant. The ladies' parts 
are: an elderly lady, the housekeeper; two pans of nearly 
equal Importance, for the leading lady and first walking lady; 
and a lighter, but still important part. We give this list in 
order that companies in search of something new and power- 
ful may judge of the requirements of the piece. This play is 
so written that the first and last acts form a very pretty little 
play "f themselves; and a company which would be unable to 
properly perform the entire play could make a success in 
these two acts. The second and third acts are supposed to be 

a dream, and the play is very good with the third act omitted 

However, the third act contains a good deal of heavy acting, 

and the opportunity will hardly he thrown away by the better 
companies, who have Strong actors among their members. — 
The Amateur Theatrical Journal. 



GEORGE M. BAKER & CO., Publishers, 

BOSTON" 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



f]^jfi foi x Sn^tettf 



BY CEORCE M. 

Author of "Amateur Dramas," " The Mimic Stage,' 
Handy Dramas," " The Fxhibitiot, 
Titles in this Type are New Plays 




Room Stat, 



015 863 497 1 



Titles in tltis Type are Temperance Plays. 



DRAMAS. 



/;/ Four Acts. 



Better Than Gold. 
char 



7 male, 4 female 



In Three Acts. 

Our Folks. 6 male, 5 female char. . . 15 
The Flower of the Family. 5 

male, 3 female char ;j 

Enlisted for the War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
male characters 1 5 

My Brother's Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

The Little Brown Jug. 5 male, 3 
female char 15 

In Two Acts. 
Above the Clouds. 7 male, 3 female 

characters 13 

One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 

4 female char 15 

Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 
char 15 

Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 female 



char. 



'S 



Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 

char 15 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 15 

The Last Loaf. 5 male, 3 female char. 15 

In One Act. 

Stand by the Flag. 5 male char . < . 15 

The Tempter, 3 male, 1 female char. 15 

COMEDIES AND FARCES. 

A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 

male, 3 female char 15 

Paddle Your Own Canoe. 7 male, 

3 female char 15 

A Drop too Much. 4 male, 2 female 

characters. 15 

A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 

female char 15 

Never Say Die. imale, 3 female char. 15 
Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 



cha 



15 



The Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 

The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
male char 15 

Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 
4 male. 3 female char 15 

We're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- 
male char 15 

Male Characters Only. 

A Close Shave. 6 char 15 

A Public Benefactor. 6 char 15 

A Sea of Troubles. 8 char 15 

Geo. M. Baker & Co., 41- 



COMEDIES, Sec, continued. 

Male Characters Only. 

A Tender Attachment. 7 char. ... 15 

Coals of Fire. 6 char 15 

Freedom of the Press. 8 char. ... 15 

Shall Our Mothers Vote ? n char. 15 

Gentlemen of the Jury. 12 char. ~ . 15 

Humors of the Strike. 8 char. . . 15 

My Uncle the Captain. 6 char. . . 15 

New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 15 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 15 

The Hypochondriac. 5 char 15 

The Man with the Demijohn. 4 

char. . . 15 

The Runaways. 4 char 15 

The Thief of Time. 6 char. . . . 15 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. ... 15 

Female Characters Only. 

A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char. . . is 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char 15 

No Cure no Pay. 7 char 15 

The Champion of Her Sex. 8 char. . 15 

The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 cha. 15 

The Grecian Bend. 7 char 15 

The Red Chignon. 6 char. .... 15 

Using the Weed. 7 char. ..... 15 

ALLEGORIES. 

Arranged for Music and Tableaux. 

Lightheart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 
char »S 

The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 
char 15 

The Sculptors Triumph, i male, 4 fe- 
male char 15 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 
female char 15 

Thf "Var of the Roses. 8 female char. 15 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea, i male, 1 female 
char, 15 

Bonbons ; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 
I female char 25 

Capuletta ; cr, Romeo and Juliet 
Restored. 3 male, 1 female char. . 15 

Santa Claus' Frolics x,5 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave 
and the Fair Imogene. 3 male, 1 
female char • • 25 

The Merry Christmas of the Old 
Woman who lived in a Shoe. . . 15 

The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male 
char • • •. • J S 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. Numerous male and female char. 15 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. 13 

The Visions of Freedom, ii female 
char. 15 

45 Franklin St.. Boston. 



Baker's Humorous Dialogues. Male characters only. 25cents. 
Baker'S HumorOUS Dialogues. Female characters only. 25 cents. 



